


Finding Family

by SelenaEstella



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: Members of Doug's clan could still be alive, and it's a risk he's willing to take. Dylas, despite their rivalry, goes with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a go at a multi-chapter story! Some notes before we start: food does not heal instantly in this fic. Only potions do that. I gotta have some things be a little more realistic haha. In fact this whole fic features more ‘realistic’ takes on Rune Factory elements. Hopefully not enough to break immersion but enough to keep the stakes high.
> 
> Enjoy~

“Silver eyes,” said the stranger, “unique to one clan and one clan alone.”

Doug shifted uncomfortably, hand twitching toward his sword. This weirdo had cornered him after work, demanded to speak alone on the outskirts of Selphia, and even though they were only a few feet from the town gate Doug was still on edge. Stuff like this was never good.

But he’d gone anyway. Maybe because he was stupid. Maybe because, even after so long, he was hopeful.

“I know that,” Doug snapped. “Now what did you want to tell me?”

The stranger reached into her cloak. “I’m a traveler,” she said. “I’ve crossed the world, even to the land of Elves.” From an inside pocket, the stranger withdrew a roll of parchment, and handed it to Doug. Warily, Doug opened it, and found himself looking at a map.

“Here,” said the stranger, tapping at a circle, drawn with red ink between three mountains, on a scrap of land unclaimed by the Sechs--not because they’d failed, but because they didn’t want it. “Here, I found dwarves with silver eyes.”

Doug’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I looked there,” he growled. He’d looked everywhere, everywhere he could. That whole territory had been stripped by the ‘dragon’--the empire--and nothing of the clanslands was left. He’d seen it himself.

“I do not know how long they’ve been there,” said the stranger. “They may have fled North before returning. But they are seeking their family, and I swore to them that if I ever found a dwarf with silver eyes, I would tell them, and give them this map.”

Doug thought long and hard, holding the map tight. “Who are you?” he said eventually. The stranger tipped back her hood. Dark freckles, and darker hair. Searing blue eyes, and a scar that ran from her right cheek to the edge of her lip.

“My name is Kesz,” she said.

Doug folded up the map as he searched her face, committing every detail to memory. He nodded slowly and tucked the fragile parchment into his pocket. “Thank you,” he said quietly. It could still be a trap. Easily. But…

Doug went back to town deep in thought. By the time he reached the shop, though, he had already made up his mind.

“I’m going.”

“Absolutely not!”

“But Granny--!”

“No!” Blossom squared her shoulders and put her hands on her tips, straightening her back as much as she could. Doug still towered over her, but he rarely felt smaller than when the old lady gave him That Look.

“I have to _try_ ,” he pleaded. “Granny--”

“I said no!” Blossom shook her head sadly, and her gaze softened a little. “I know it must be hard,” she said. “Heaven knows, I’d leap at the chance of seeing my old friends even one more time. But it is far too dangerous, and I will _not_ see you hurt again! Besides...” Blossom sighed heavily. “With Ventuswill gone, Selphia is unstable. Please don’t add to that by running off on a wild cluckadoodle chase.”

Her words stung, deeply. Doug knew she hadn’t meant them like that, hadn’t meant to trivialize his feelings like that, but...

“I’m going back out,” he said glumly, turning away without looking back. Behind him, Blossom sighed again.

The map was still in Doug’s pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't know suffering until you've tried to write two characters whose names alliterate. Welcome Dylas.

Late at night Doug crept downstairs, a heavy bag hanging off his shoulder. Acting normal was painful, but he’d had practice. He was confident he could sneak out without anybody noticing. It was too bad word traveled fast in Selphia, and just because _he_ hadn’t told anyone didn’t mean they hadn’t found out.

Doug tensed as he approached the airship, readying for a fight. Four figures were standing outside it, blocking his path, but they wouldn’t stop him.

“Get out of my way,” Doug growled, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’m going whether you like it or not!”

Amber pouted, Dolce sighed, and Leon smirked behind his fan. Dylas glared at Doug.

“Just listen, for once, will you?” he hissed. “We’re not going to stop you!”

“Also,” said Leon, “we could absolutely stop you if we wanted.”

Doug opened his mouth to bite back, but Dolce stepped forward. She thrust a bundle into his hands, face pale and drawn in the moonlight. “Take these,” she said. Doug peered into the bag--medicine, and several different sorts of candy.

“I already have-”

“And these!” Amber fluttered over, pressing two large yellow flowers into Doug’s pockets.

“What-?”

“And this.” Leaning over, Leon put a length of twine over Doug’s head, letting it fall around his neck. A light charm hung from the end, something made of feathers, but it was hard to see it clearly in the dim light.

Doug stared at the gifts, not knowing what to say. “...Thank you,” he managed eventually, looking at the three. Dylas awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I’m coming with you,” he said.

Gratitude forgotten, Doug gaped at him. “W-what??”

Dylas crossed his arms and grimaced. Now that Doug was paying full attention, he could see that Dylas had a pack of his own, and was also wearing one of Leon’s feather charms. For all they loved to argue and fight, Doug was touched.

“...You shouldn't,” he said eventually.

Dylas snorted, tail whipping from side to side. “ _Someone_ has to,” he said. “There’s no way you’d last on your own.”

“Good luck,” said Dolce, cutting off Doug's reply. She hesitated a moment before giving him quick hug. Amber didn’t hold back nearly as much and practically tackled him. Leon put his fan down and ruffled Doug’s hair, smiling fondly.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Good luck!” Amber chirped.

Doug took a deep breath and turned to Dylas, who nodded stiffly once. He exchanged brief, speaking looks with the other Guardians before turning towards the airship, gesturing for Doug to follow with a nod of his head.

Doug paused on the very edge, looking back at Selphia, at his friends. He knew he could be making a mistake. The biggest mistake of his life.

But he had to try.

“You coming or what?” Dylas snapped.

“Yeah,” Leon teased, “the sun will be up at this rate.”

“Shut up,” Doug muttered, moment broken. He turned towards the ship and didn’t look back, stepping onto the deck. Dylas took the wheel. Wind whipped at their hair as they turned out and soon, the ship was racing away from Selphia.

“Don’t you want the map?” Doug asked dryly. Dylas’ face visibly heated and he made grabby motions with one hand.

“Give it,” he said. “I just don’t like long goodbyes.”

Doug snorted as he handed over the fragile piece of paper. Dylas attached it carefully to the steering wheel, smoothing out the creases before turning the airship around.

Neither said anything.

Doug walked forward and plonked himself down by some barrels, sliding his bag off his shoulder and packing away the bundle Dolce had given him. Woodland streaked by below them. The propeller gave a steady beat as it turned.

“So…” Doug began, unable to bear the silence, “you have an airship licence?”

“Obviously,” said Dylas, with a snort.

“Since when?”

“...Yesterday,” he admitted.

Doug rolled his eyes and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head where he leaned against a barrel. “Wow,  _that_ reassures me.”

“It's not like it's _hard_ ,” Dylas countered, followed by some mutter about explosions. “Besides, I've been able to sail for years.”

“Sail?” Doug sat up slightly. “Like, on water?”

“Where else? I… I used to live by the sea. As a kid. Before we moved to Selphia.” Dylas was staring fixedly at the map.

“Oh…”

Quiet fell again. Doug looked towards the skyline. Dylas twitched uncomfortably.

“...So you can fly?” he asked.

“Hn? Oh, yeah…” Doug looked down and cleared his throat. “The uh. The Sechs gave me a few lessons.” Technically, he didn’t have an air license-he’d just figured all ships flew pretty much the same.

“Must've been hard,” Dylas said softly.

“Hn?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“...Well yeah. It was hard.” Doug took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, drawing his legs towards him and propping his elbows on his knees.

“I'm sorry.” Dylas had changed to studying the steering wheel. Doug attempted a carefree laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“It wasn't all bad,” he said. “I became a pretty sweet swordsman after all!”

“Did you really?”

“Yes I-Hey! What're you implying??”

Dylas just just laughed, and after a moment Doug let it go. They lapsed back into silence, but it was a good deal less awkward.

“I kind of wanted to go travelling, when I was a kid,” Dylas began suddenly. “Well, sailing, specifically.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Though I could never quite find the money.”

“Huh… Where did you want to go?”

“Hm?” Dylas looked surprised at the question. He unglued his eyes from the wheel long enough to glance over. “Oh, just… anywhere, I guess. The East perhaps, they do the best sashimi.”

“Oh yeah,” said Doug, with genuine curiosity, “how come you like fish if you’re a horse?”

“ _I am not a horse!_ ” Dylas shouted, giving Doug the full force of his glare. The effect was ruined when Dylas stamped his foot and swished his tail. Doug laughed so hard he hit the back of his head on a barrel.

Sliding down to lie on his back, Doug stared at the clouds for a minute before closing his eyes. Might as well nap for a while. “How much longer?” he asked, opening one eye to look at Dylas.

Dylas’ cheeks were still pink. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, unsure if he should answer. “It could be a while,” he said eventually. “And I swear, if you start a whole ‘ _are we there yet?’_ thing, I will kick you off the-”

The airship stopped.

Doug found himself slammed into the barrels and for a moment, all he could do was clutch his head and curse. At the same time he head a thud and looked up, eyes watering, to see that Dylas had been flung headfirst over the steering wheel and onto the floor.

It was like the airship had hit a brick wall, except when Doug scrambled to his feet to search the surrounding sky, he couldn’t see anything that might’ve caused them to stop. Swearing, Dylas picked himself up and shared Doug’s look of confusion and concern.

“Does it have a limit?” Doug asked worriedly. “Like, can we only go so far from the town, or something?”

“I don’t know,” said Dylas. They could hear the propeller thrumming behind them. By all means, they _should_ have been moving.

Doug was getting a very, very bad feeling. He drew his sword.

The airship  _shot_ forward.

Doug was lifted clean off his feet. He heard Dylas start yelling but was too busy scrambling for the v _ery sharp blade_ that was skidding across the deck. Whatever speed they'd been going it was _nothing_ compared to this, and the air turned thin as it was stripped away from the ship. Doug felt light-headed. He crawled on his belly on the deck towards his sword; meanwhile Dylas grappled his way back onto the platform, towards the steering wheel that had started spinning uncontrollably.

The airship began to turn. Slowly at first but with a gradual intensity that soon mounted into a dizzying, terrifying whirl. Doug abandoned his sword in favour of trying not to be sick.

There was a thud and a cry from the platform. Doug could just about see Dylas slumped a few feet from the steering wheel, and this time he wasn’t getting up. He looked dazed, unfocused, blood dripping from his mouth and a bruise blossoming on his jaw where the out of control steering wheel had hit him.

Oh no.

_Oh no._

“Dylas!” Doug shouted, or tried to shout, voice almost lost beneath the wind. “Dylas, are you alright?!”

Slowly, so slowly, Dylas squeezed his eyes closed and folded against the side of the ship, clutching at his face.

“ _Dylas!_ ” It came out more like a sob. Doug pressed his forehead to the deck and tried, desperately, to _think_.

He didn’t remember falling.

He didn’t remember hitting the ground.

All he remembered was sudden, crushing darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is this thing you call 'taking the plot slowly'


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for character injury!** I chose not to warn in the tags because of spoilers, but I think it's pretty obvious from the last chapter that the boys are not ok.

_Oww…_

Dylas groaned as he woke up, wondering what could _possibly_ have happened last night for him to wake up feeling like an Elefun had run him over. He wasn’t in the habit of drinking himself stupid, and as far as he could remember there hadn’t been a reason to, no birthday or wedding or festival or _anything_. But he was lying in something wet, with a sharp headache and various pains scattered throughout his body.

He was also freezing cold. Dylas opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was the golden tip of a sword. He stopped breathing as he looked on in horror, watching the blade swing ever so slightly back and forth. It was trapped by the hilt in the airship’s grating, the one in the centre that led to the hold. Just an inch to the left or right and…

One of Amber’s yellow flowers was speared on the end. As Dylas watched, heart thundering in his chest, the flower slid slowly down the blade to fall on Dylas’ chest.

His memories came flooding back.

Dylas tried to sit up and immediately flopped over again, clutching at his head and jaw. Damn, he remembered, the steering wheel had almost cracked his skull. Dylas could still taste blood from where he’d bitten his cheek and was fairly sure a tooth was cracked. Still. It could be much worse.

His right leg was broken.

The pain left him gasping when he tried to sit up again. Dylas didn’t have to look to know what was wrong, he keenly remembered the sensation from when he’d broken his arm as a child, except this time it was much, much worse. Eyes squeezed shut, Dylas felt around himself, hunting for his bag, and was desperately relieved when he found it a few feet away. He pulled it over slowly, wary of any more breaks he hadn’t discovered yet, and fished around inside until he felt the smooth glass of a health potion.

Dylas drank it in one gulp and immediately felt better, the potion’s magic sweeping through his body and soothing the aches and bruises. His leg still felt tender but was no longer an immediate problem and the pain in his head had faded to an ache.

Now.

Where was he?

...and what had happened to Doug?

Dylas struggled upright and found himself beneath the overturned airship, lying in a bank of snow. It had broken his fall but he was soaked to the bone; Dylas turned over and crawled away from the sword, teeth chattering. He dragged his bag with him as he shuffled around the cramped space, navigating rocks and broken bits of wood. Doug, he needed to find Doug, needed to get help, needed a goddamn change of clothes.

There was no sign of Doug under the airship. Really starting to panic then, Dylas headed towards where a shaft of light was coming through under the ship. A narrow gap had formed between the wooden railing and an outcrop of rock, big enough to crawl through. Dylas pushed his bag under first before shoving his head and shoulders through, squirming and wriggling and kicking until he was out the other side.

Cold wind hit him like a slap in the face and Dylas wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his bag for all the warmth it would bring. Snow fell in flurries, catching in his hair as he limped forward across the bumpy ground.

“Doug!” he shouted, “Doug, are you there?!” No answer. Dylas moved as quick as he could around the airship, looking for any clues, for any sign. The ship had not fared well, balloon a saggy pile of cloth, propellers smashed into fragments. The hull was badly damaged, great big holes punched out of it, and scratched badly where it must’ve dragged along the ground. Still, Dylas was grateful, because it had taken the damage and not him.

But _where_ was…

Footprints.

Footprints and drops of blood, like rubies in the snow. Heading away from the crash site. Dylas was no tracker but the steps looked uneven, like Doug had been struggling to walk, disoriented and hurt.

Dylas ran. Didn’t care if his leg broke again, just ran until the trail cut off and he was left standing on the edge of a shallow ravine.

Doug was lying at the bottom. Half buried in in the steadily falling slow, skin tinged blue with cold, deathly still.

Yellow flower petals scattered around his head, like a broken halo.

Dylas felt physically ill. He jumped down and his right leg crumpled beneath him. Shoving the pain away Dylas crawled forward and rolled Doug onto his back. Pressed numb fingers to Doug’s throat. Held his cheek above Doug’s mouth.

A heartbeat. Faint but there. Breathing, too.

The relief was almost dizzying. Alive, still alive, but at this rate…

Dylas shoved his hand back into his satchel, hunting for another potion. He cut his fingers on broken glass and pulled them out in shock.

Oh no. No, no no no no no.

Too panicked to think he upturned the bag. All sorts of supplies fell out, food and firewood and not

a single

bottle.

Just fragments of glass.

Doug, though, he’d had a bag of supplies too. It wasn’t there so it must be back at the ship. Dylas struggled to his feet, wincing as pain flared in his leg. He took one step towards the airship, then stopped. He was hurt, it would be difficult, but he _couldn’t_ leave Doug.

\--

Back in the relative shelter of the crash site, Dylas hunted beneath the ship until he found Doug’s bag. By the time he pulled himself out again he was shaking, not just from cold but from exhaustion and pain. His leg had broken again, definitely, when he’d managed to slam it against a sharp corner of rock, but Dylas swore he wouldn’t take a health potion until Doug was alright.

Doug’s bag hadn’t fared much better. Six of the nine bottles had smashed. Dylas munched on one of Dolce’s cookies as he stared at the remaining three, sweet sugar a comforting taste and giving him a little energy. Doug would need all three potions to get him completely out of danger, but he’d still be hurt and exhausted. Dylas, on the other hand, would only need two to get back in fighting shape… but would one really be enough for Doug?

Dylas didn’t have much choice. The snow was getting thicker as the sun sank towards the horizon. He’d need strength to make a decent shelter, to start a fire, and to fend off any monsters sniffing for an easy meal.

Doug hadn’t woken up, hadn’t even moved. Dylas propped him up and coaxed the first potion drop by drop down his throat. Doug remained unconscious, but his colour improved and his breathing got easier.

Dylas took the second potion, but hesitated before the third. He should save it. If he rested for the night, he might not need it anyway. Mind made up, he turned his attention to part of the damaged airship and began kicking a bigger hole with his uninjured leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea that Ayngondaia Lawn literally ‘dies for you’, as in it takes your place and sustains whatever damage would've killed you. It’s very dramatic.
> 
> Also a heads up, I'm going away this weekend so I might not be around to update on Sunday. I've also been reconsidering some later sections of the story so there might be delays as I rewrite bits.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned!

Even with the fire it was freezing. Dylas stared at the flames and pulled Doug a little closer, cradling the Dwarf against his chest. He’d stripped off their wet clothes and used them to wipe away some of the snow before pushing them aside. He’d redressed in his warmest, buried Doug under the spares and wrapped a blanket around them both, but it was still so _cold_. Too cold to sleep. And… Dylas could swear he could hear… _things_. Shuffling around outside. He’d blocked up as many holes as he could but… still…

The fire began to wane and he tossed another log on. Damn him for not bringing coal. Damn him for not bringing a better fire spell. Damn him for not padding his bag like he _should have_. Damn him for going on this stupid trip in the first place, for letting Doug go, for not staying at home in Selphia where it was warm and safe and-

Doug twitched. Dylas immediately focused all his attention on Doug’s face, watching the Dwarf as he grimaced, shifted slowly in discomfort, but didn't open his eyes.

“Doug! Doug, are you alright?” Dylas could’ve kicked himself, because of course he wasn’t alright, but as it was he watched closely as Doug shifted restlessly, face twisting in pain. His mouth opened and released a dry, cracked moan.

“No… please…”

Dylas hesitated a moment before reaching up to lightly smack Doug's cheek. “Doug?” he asked gently. Something wasn’t right.

“Please… Promise… I’ll try harder… harder next time…”

The cold Dylas felt had nothing to do with the snow. Doug’s eyes were screwed shut and he was trembling even in sleep. Dylas shook him hard. "Doug, you idiot, wake up!"

Doug gasped and frightened eyes flew open. He looked around, panicked, before finally focusing on Dylas. It seemed to take him a moment to realise where he was and what was happening but when he did, he looked incredibly relieved.

"Hey," said Dylas. "Welcome back." He propped Doug up a little more and dragged his bag closer. "Want something to drink?"

Doug croaked out a 'yes'. Dylas pulled out a bottle of juice and pried the cap off with his teeth. Doug's hands were too stiff to hold it properly so Dylas helped him take small sips. It helped, the sweet flavour waking Doug up faster and and soothing his throat a little. Slowly he took his own weight and moved away. It was then that Dylas realised just how tight he'd been cradling Doug and his cheeks heated up despite the cold.

Doug sat on the icy ground and stared at the fire. He still looked pretty out of it as he tried to warm his hands before the flames, and Dylas felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as he remembered the shape Amber's flower had taken around his head. That one potion hadn't been nearly enough.

"Did you change my clothes?" Doug asked suddenly, blinking at his sleeves.

"Wha, yes, uh," said Dylas. The question was sudden and strange enough to throw him for a loop. "Of course I did!" he eventually spluttered, much louder than he'd meant to. "They were soaked through and-and had blood on them, of course I changed them!" It had been such an obvious thing to do that Dylas hadn't even considered the implications, but it wasn't like he'd been... been trying to see Doug's underwear or something!

Doug gave Dylas a strange look and said, "that's a good thing. You were supposed to change them."

"Well." Dylas felt all sorts of uncomfortable. "Ok, mister survival guy, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Build a shelter," said Doug, "light a fire, stick together, wait for rescue." He rattled them off like a checklist and Dylas leaned forward a little, trying to see Doug's face better. The fire wasn't all that bright, but Doug was clearly a little out of it and sweat was shining on his face.

"Hey, wanna lie down again?" Dylas asked cautiously. "You're not looking so good."

Doug shook himself, like he was waking from a daze. "Sleeping at night is bad," he said mechanically. "Your body temperature drops."

Dylas pulled the blanket off himself and put it around Doug's shoulders. "How do you know this stuff?" he asked.

Doug looked at him blankly. "The Sechs," he said, like that answered everything. Dylas bit his tongue and didn't push it. He stoked the fire and added some more sticks, though he realised the stack of firewood was quickly dwindling.

“What happened?” Doug asked suddenly, looking around as if he’d just woken up again. “I remember being on an airship…”

“We were,” said Dylas. “But we… lost control?” he frowned and thought back. He still couldn’t work out what exactly had happened, what would cause a perfectly sound airship to malfunction like that. “We started spinning and I... guess we hit something?”

“Yeah,” said Doug, though he didn't sound very sure. "Weird."

“That’s one way of putting it,” Dylas muttered. “You hungry at all?”

Doug gave a small shake of his head and grimaced. “Head hurts too much,” he said. “Got a… thing though? A green potion?”

“No.” Dylas bitterly remembered the shattered glass, plus the green stains on his clothes. “They… they broke in the crash.”

“ _Damn_.” It was the most alive and awake Doug had sounded since the crash. “Ok. We’ll figure it out.” And he sounded so damn sure.

Dylas swallowed thickly. “Will we?”

Doug looked at him. The firelight filled his eyes and they seemed to glow like embers. “We will,” said Doug. “We have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doug was originally unconscious for the whole of this, but I decided Dylas' internal monologue got a bit bland and besides, I like writing him interact with Doug. At least, before I remembered how awkward it is to write dialogue between two characters with alliterative names.
> 
> Also, I'm pleased with the changes I'm making so hopefully updates will be longer in the future.


	5. Chapter 5

Dylas’ head nodded towards his chest and he jerked it up sharply. The crackling fire glowed fuzzily for a moment before coming back into focus, throwing it’s warm light onto Doug where he sat and casting a long, long shadow. Dylas followed it with his eyes, watched it stretch into infinity in the darkness of their shelter. Something drew him to the corner where the shadows lay thickest, something trained his eyes on what was at first nothing, then became a twisting, glimmering ribbon.

Heartbeat slow and steady, Dylas watched as it moved softly towards the light. For hours and hours it twirled slowly forward, glimmering green and red and blue. It coiled, unhurried, towards the fire.

The flames played beautifully on the snake’s scales, but not scales, Dylas realised, they were feathers, rows of small and delicate feathers that shimmered in the light. Untouched by the heat the snake wound between the flames, over the fire, towards the tightly packed hole that led to the outside. As it disappeared into the shadows once more, the first creeping fingers of unease began playing on Dylas’ spine.

The darkness seemed much deeper, the fire much smaller. The orange light barely reached past the flames and the space at Dylas’ back felt cold and alien, a gaping void of unknown shadows. He wanted to move, to look behind him, but his body was stiff and weighed in place, head pulled down by some impossible force around his neck. The shadows crept nearer, smothering the fire until it was a dull amber glow and whispers surrounded the two lone survivors, _not safe, not safe, not safe..._

_\--_

Dylas awoke to cooling ashes and feeble sunlight trickling through the cracks in the ceiling. Doug was curled up on his side, completely out of it. He was so still that for a moment Dylas’ heart froze alongside his hands, but Doug was still breathing, and he mumbled grumpily when Dylas shook him. Not dead, then, just unconscious and sick.

Dylas’ limbs were stiff and his joints cracked as he got up, crawling to the hole and unblocking it. Cautiously, he poked his head out and looked around, venturing out further when he saw no monsters and scanning the surrounding area just to be sure. Satisfied, Dylas got to work.

Doug had been wrong. With dwindling supplies and no guarantee of rescue, they needed to move. Dylas couldn’t carry Doug all the way, but he’d read enough books to know that it would be possible to make some kind of sled that could also help build a shelter when night came. It would be incredibly basic, just wooden planks tied together and rope to haul it along, but it was better than nothing.

The first two attempts were a complete failure. Dylas’ hands were numb and he didn’t know what he was doing anyway. He ate some more cookies, determined to ration their food, and checked on Doug regularly. No change. The sun crept higher into the sky.

By the time he’d finished hauling and wrestling and begging the pieces into place, Dylas felt almost warm. Great. Now for Doug, who had barely shifted for hours except to twitch and moan. Dylas pulled him out as gently as he could and strapped him to the sled, still wrapped up snugly, with one of the bags for a pillow.

Doug looked worse in the daylight, cheeks red with fever. Dylas managed to rouse him enough to get some milk porridge into him, before drinking the final health potion and setting off across the snow.

He had no idea where he was going.

Dylas would, occasionally, go to the snowy lands on the outskirts of Selphia, near the field where Lest farmed winter crops all year round. They had gone far past that area, though. They’d been flying over Noradian land as much as possible, trying to stay safe. Dylas had no idea how far off course they were and with the map gone, there was no way to tell.

They could be in the middle of Sechs territory.

The trek was slow-going, Dylas wincing every time he had to drag the sled over rough ground and wishing Doug was awake to make horse jokes. He felt cold down to his bones and the rope he’d slung across his body was cutting a line of fire into his chest. He had to stop several times just to rest, and by the time the sun reached the horizon he felt like they’d made hardly any progress. Dylas stopped again, and looked around. They needed shelter.

The entire landscape was flat.

Dylas sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands. He needed a minute. A minute to breathe and _try_ to think, but it was hopeless. They were lost, and hurt, and he’d been stupid enough to leave the shelter of the crash site. Doug had even said to _wait for rescue_ , not ‘wander off into a snowy wasteland’. They were doomed. They were doomed and it was  _his fault_.

Doug groaned behind him.

Dylas turned quickly and crawled to the sled. Doug’s eyes were blinking open, looking bleary and confused, and Dylas readied himself for what was to come. He would accept any verbal beatdown Doug wanted to lay on him.

“Wh…” Doug’s voice was cracked and dry. Doug tried again. “Where… are we? What,” he swallowed, thickly, “what happened?”

“The airship crashed, remember?” said Dylas. Doug nodded. “I don’t know where we are… I’ve been trying to find help, but…” He trailed off, waiting for the reaction.

“We need to make shelter,” said Doug, shockingly calm. He tugged at the ropes and frowned. “Uh, why am I tied up?”

“To keep you on the sled!” Dylas quickly explained, working on the knots before deciding he’d better just cut them. He pulled the Defender out and sawed it through. Doug levered himself up on his elbows and glanced around.

“We’ll make a dugout,” he said. “The snow’s cold and thick enough.”

“...a what?”

Doug rolled his eyes, and Dylas had never been so glad to see Doug act like _Doug_. “Like an igloo, but without blocks.” He went to get up but stopped suddenly, pain flashing across his face. He paled alarmingly and eased himself back down.

“Doug??” Dylas reached for him but didn’t know where to put his hands.

“Got a health potion?” Doug asked hopefully, trying to smile.

“You don’t…?” Well, _that_ wasn’t a good sign. “Ah, no. They broke.”

“Ok.” Doug closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok. I’ll tell you what to do.”

As it turned out, Doug was a very critical instructor.

It was night by the time they were sheltered, using the sled as the floor of their little hut, literally a giant snowball with the inside carved out. Dylas hadn’t had a clue what he was doing, had never even _heard_ of this structure before, and Doug had made him start over twice before he was satisfied.

They couldn’t light a fire so they were stuck in cold and darkness, though Doug insisted that it was better than being outside. It didn’t _feel_ better. The warmth Dylas had worked up was quickly fading and he could no longer feel his feet, let alone his poor, numb hands. They drank juice and ate porridge and Dylas even found a few onigiri, which Doug ate happily.

“Too bad none of them have salmon,” he said, taking another bite. “Or are baked. Ugh, I’d kill for a baked onigiri right now.”

“You know,” Dylas remarked, feeling marginally better with food inside him, “you might have to eat bread at some point.” Most of what they had were sandwiches.

“Bread,” Doug said with his mouth full, “is a spongy energy vampire of food. I’ll have the fillings.” He seemed in surprisingly good spirits considering he was lost, cold, injured, and stuck with Dylas for the foreseeable future. Then again, _he_ had been asleep all day. “So,” Doug continued, after he’d swallowed, “you pulled the sled-thing all this way?”

“Yes,” said Dylas. He knew where this was going. “Just like a horse.”

“Just like an old na-Hey!”

Dylas started to laugh. It was slightly hysterical, but after a moment Doug joined in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically what Dylas makes is a 'Quinzhee'. The more you know~


	6. Chapter 6

Dylas slowly came to. He hadn’t meant to sleep, but exhaustion had overtaken him and he vaguely remembered lying down during the night, curling up with Doug. He was cold, cramped, and tired still. What could’ve woken him up?

Voices. Voices outside.

Dylas bolted upright, ready to launch himself through the top of the dugout, but a hand was suddenly buried in his hair.

Looking down in confusion, Dylas was just about to ask Doug what the hell he was thinking, when the hand moved to clamp over his mouth.

“Don’t do anything,” Doug hissed, and he looked _afraid_. “Don’t trust them. Wait until they’ve gone.”

Dylas wanted to protest. He remembered the first night, how sick and confused Doug had been. How could he trust Doug to know what he was talking about when he’d clearly sustained a head injury? But Doug looked wide awake and alert, and the fear was enough to make Dylas keep his mouth shut.

The voices drew steadily nearer and Dylas held his breath, straining to hear. The snow ate up sound and he couldn’t make out any words until the strangers were almost on top of them.

“...about 1.5 miles from the crash,” said Voice 1, a woman by the sound of it. “You really think they could’ve made it this far?”

“It’s possible,” said Voice 2, a man this time. “Kid snows survival. Stupid to leave the airship, yeah, but he would’ve if he thought we were after him. Besides, he’s been here before.”

Dylas glanced at Doug in surprise, but Doug was staring in the direction the voices were coming from and didn’t react. He was clearly straining to hear, and Dylas realised after a moment his ears must be much better than Doug’s. Not that he’d mention it anytime soon.

“The tracks suggested a companion,” Voice 1 said, growing fainter. Doug visibly tensed. “Before we lost them, anyway.”

“So?” said Voice 2. “We’ll take them both out.”

It was all Dylas caught before the sounds disappeared, voices dying into mumbles, footsteps fading away. He waited for what felt like an eternity before Doug removed his hand.

“What the hell?!” Dylas snapped, fear and anger pouring out of him. “Even if they captured us they would've got us out of here!”

“They weren't going to capture us they were going to kill us!” Doug shouted back.

“ _Why?_ ” Dylas shouted, grabbing Doug’s shoulders and shaking them. “How could you _know_ that?”

“Because that was Syra and Riker and _that's what they do!_ ” Dylas was shocked into silence. Doug took a strained, shaky breath and forced himself to continue. “I knew them, I've...  _seen_ them… They don't… take… prisoners!” Doug broke into deep, hacking coughs. Dylas snapped out of his trance and helped Doug sit up, rubbing his back. The fit only lasted a minute but by the end, Doug was pale and shaking, clearly in pain.

“Lie down,” Dylas urged, anger forgotten. “Keep resting.”

“No. No, we _have_ to move.” Doug struggled upright, batting Dylas’ hands away. He picked up his bag and started beating at the snowy wall. Dylas fought with himself for a moment, still sure it was a better idea to stay put, before carefully pushing Doug aside.

“Hey, wait, I'll do that.” Dylas kicked hard at the wall. Doug sat back, panting. He didn't even make a horse joke. The snow had hardened into ice and took a few kicks to break and when it did, instead of cold air rushing in it was fresh snow.

“What the…”

“Try higher up,” Doug said, voice hoarse.

It was tough to maneuvre in the small space but Dylas managed it. Lying awkwardly on his back, he kicked through the ceiling and chunks of icy snow fell onto his legs.

“Ugh!”

Doug laughed, a little breathlessly, still recovering from his coughing fit. Dylas stood up through the hole and found himself surrounded by waist deep white powder-it had snowed so heavily that the roof of the dugout had been nothing but a small bump. No wonder it hadn't been found. Those Sechs could've walked on top and only noticed when they fell through…

Doug got to his feet and grabbed hold of Dylas for balance. He scanned the landscape with a pained expression and hefted his bag into his shoulder. “We can't take the sled through this,” he said.

Dylas looked at him worriedly. He still didn't quite trust Doug's judgement, guy was clearly freaked out and not at all well, but there was a glint in his eyes that made the silver look more like steel, and if there was even the faintest chance that those Sechs were coming back then Doug was right. They had to move.

Dylas went first, cutting through the snow until he reached the trench one of the Sechs had made. They followed it backwards, as quickly as possible on the slippery ground. It ran roughly parallel to the crash site, Dylas thought or maybe hoped. It would get some distance between them and the Sechs. He stared fixedly ahead, listening to Doug’s footsteps and laboured breathing.

“Do you really think anyone survived?” The question had been burning since he’d first got on the airship, and he was hurt and tired and cranky enough that he couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice. Dylas regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it.

“I don’t know.” Doug’s answer was cold and blunt. “I looked as much as I could. But that was before. They could’ve hidden them from me.”

“So it could all be for nothing.” It probably  _was_ all for nothing.

“Yes.”

And Dylas made himself keep quiet. He’d known what he was getting into.

“You didn’t have to come,” Doug said. Dylas heard him stop and turned around, walking back to where Doug had dropped behind a few feet. He wasn’t looking good. The flush on his cheeks had deepened and his eyes had turned glassy, vacant. Dyals tried to feel his forehead but it didn’t help much, Dylas’ hands had been numb for hours.

“You’re right,” he said forcefully, grabbing Doug’s shoulders. “But I wanted to.”

Doug frowned. He looked so lost. “Why?”

Dylas took a breath, opened his mouth… and closed it again.

“...That’s a good question,” he said. He took hold of Doug’s bag and slung it over his own shoulder. He grabbed Doug’s wrist and began to lead him on.

The sun moved faster than they did. Dylas thought, brain nearly as numb as his feet, that he had a good idea of why the Sechs wanted other countries so bad. He said it out loud, hoping to get a reaction from Doug, but was met with the same oppressive silence from the snow. Doug had barely said anything the whole time, focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other.

They didn’t stop until Dylas made them; Doug looked as though he was sleepwalking, head down and eyes half closed. They sat in the shallow insulation of the trench and Doug found more porridge, eating stone cold sandwiches himself. He even found a container of Hot Juice for Doug to sip, the spicy aroma hard to resist.

The sun had passed the halfway mark and Dylas wanted to build another shelter while they still had light, but Doug stared at the sky and measured the daylight, and he insisted that they had to get as far as possible while they still had time. They started walking again.

Luck met them in the form of a rickety old shed.

The tracks led to the door, but carried on past it, and there was no light or sound coming from inside. Dylas opened the door slowly and found the cabin deserted, empty apart from the charcoal smears from a long-dead fire and a few bits of old wood. He turned to Doug.

“We are _not_ passing this up,” he said. Doug shuffled forward, and looked around.

Looked at Dylas.

Looked at his crossed arms, narrowed eyes, and steely expression.

“Stubborn old mule,” Doug muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i plain forgot to update yesterday. hope this makes up for it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my wonderful reviewers! Thank you so much, you make me so happy ^^ I don't always get round to replying but I appreciate every single comment <3

Again, Dylas hadn’t meant to sleep, but again he woke up to a dying fire and frozen limbs. This time though, he opened his eyes and found his face buried in thick pink hair. Vaguely, he remembered moving closer to Doug during the night, and after a mumbled half-conversation Doug had rolled over to lie flush against his chest. It didn’t feel that much warmer, but Dylas couldn’t help his smile. He moved back a little, slow as he could, and found Doug looking much better than he had the night before. His breathing was easier and his fever looked like it’d gone down, and some of the stress lines were gone from his face.

Maybe, near their cabin, there’d be a road. The road would lead to a village. Maybe they’d be alright.

Dylas closed his eyes again, held Doug a little tighter, and started to doze off. He was just starting to fall asleep when Doug snorted, twitched suddenly, and kneed him in the thigh.

“Ow!”

“ _Nngh_.” Doug shifted some more, waking up, then jerked away. He blinked at Dylas in surprise before his face broke into a sheepish grin. “Uh, hey, man!” Doug said, voice scratchy with sleep. “Morning already?”

“I… yeah,” said Dylas, trying and failing to keep the confusion from his voice. Doug was scooting away on his backside, looking anywhere but Dylas.

“Cool!” He reached where they’d left the bags and started digging around. “Uh, if you build the fire back up, how about some warm breakfast?”

Dylas stared for a moment longer. Then he put his head down and got to work.

\--

They were seriously running low on food.

They drank snow melted over the fire, ate onigiri toasted on a stick. Even with Dylas’ cooking experience they weren’t brilliant, and as he munched and crunched, he couldn’t help dream of hot milk porridge. Though by that point he would’ve eaten anything.

Dylas glanced up from his food for a moment before looking back down. Doug had been unusually quiet, though it wasn’t the sick, exhausted silence from yesterday. It was a quiet that got into the cabin and made it feel smaller, made the air feel tighter, made everything feel _awkward_. It was getting on Dylas’ nerves. Was this seriously about waking up like... _that?_ Was it really such a big deal? They were lost and hurt and _freezing_ , surely it was _natural_ to-

“I miss Ventuswill,” Doug said. Dylas looked up again to find Doug picking at his rice, eating it grain by grain.

“So do I,” said Dylas, quietly.

“Bet she’d’ve stopped us,” Doug muttered. “Or at least helped.”

“Given us pancakes…” Dylas mumbled. Then he sat up straighter. “Lest will get her back,” he said firmly. Doug looked up and met his eye, and they shared a moment of silent agreement.

Dylas broke the eye contact, looking away as a memory picked at his brain. “You ever had… weird dreams?” he asked slowly.

“Well _yeah_ ,” Doug scoffed. “Everyone has weird dreams.”

“Yeah but,” Dylas struggled with his words, “not like the normal weird dreams… weird dreams that feel like they _mean_ something.”

Doug’s eyebrows scrunched. “So like… that future-seeing thing? Prosthetic or whatever?”

“Yeah. No,” said Dylas. “Well, kind of.”

Doug looked at him for a moment, head tilted, before shrugging and going back to his food. “Nah,” Doug said flippantly. “Never had anything like that.” A beat. “Have you?”

Dylas pulled a face. “...Maybe?”

Doud rolled his eyes. “You’re not being very helpful.”

“ _Shut_ _up!_ " Dylas snapped, face going hot. _"_ It’s hard to explain ok! And I’m not even sure. I don’t remember half of it… just…” Dylas took a deep breath and put down his onigiri, forcing the words to line up properly in his head. “The morning we moved away from the crash,” he began slowly. “I woke up _feeling_ like we had to go, even though you said not to. And then we… heard those Sechs…” Dylas’ voice faded into a mumble. It was stupid saying it out loud like that and he expected Doug to mock him.

For a moment Doug said nothing, mulling over Dylas’ words. “I think,” he said eventually, “that if she can help, she will.”

Dylas looked up hopefully, feeling his ears prick a little. “You think that might’ve been her?”

“I think that… it didn’t have to have... _not_ been her.”

“Now _you’re_ being unhelpful.” Dylas shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, and stiffly got to his feet, joints popping. “You ready to move?” He asked Doug.

Doug finished his own onigiri and got up more slowly, testing his frozen limbs. Dylas caught the flash of pain and wondered if he should’ve stayed sitting down. Wondered if Doug would say anything.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Just masked his grimace with a yawn and stretched out slowly, like he was waking from a peaceful sleep and not a long night spent on frozen ground.

“Sure!” said Doug, slinging his bag casually over his shoulder. “Let’s move.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had stopped snowing, at least.

Doug led that time, marching out like he had something to prove. The land around them was flat and white, but there was a line of grey near the horizon that Dylas hoped against hope was civilisation, or at least something to provide shelter when night fell.

They kept on following the Sechs’ trail, though it was making Dylas paranoid; his footsteps seemed fresher than the ones he was following, even to his untrained eye. But he also didn’t like the idea of wading through so much snow, having it soak into clothes and leaving such an obvious path. The feeling of being hunted wouldn't leave him, and he kept impulsively looking over his shoulder. An icy mist covered the wasteland, blurring their surroundings; something Dylas both resented and felt grateful for.

Doug started panting not long into their trek. Dylas himself was feeling oddly lightheaded, something he was determined to ignore but if Doug started coughing again, they would stop. They’d have to stop. Because if Doug got really, seriously ill then… then Dylas didn’t know what they’d do. What _he’d_ do.

“Whoa! Look out!”

Dylas stopped so suddenly he nearly fell over. “What is it?” he asked quickly, voice low. “The Sechs?”

“Nah, nothing like that.” Doug pointed to the ground in front of him. “Look.”

The ground dropped off into a sharp slope, but since the entire landscape was covered in white, the change in shadows was the only giveaway. Dylas had been so unfocused he would’ve fallen straight down. He peered over the edge; the Sechs’ trench continued at the bottom. it wasn’t that far, a couple of meters perhaps, but with their injuries…

“We should climb down,” said Doug. Dylas looked at him, and wondered if Doug’s fever had come back.

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face, because Doug rolled his eyes. “I’m serious,” he said, a touch of excitement in his voice. “I think I know where we are. These are the Icegale Steppes, they’re covered in shallow ravines. We’ll have to cross one eventually.”

“Ok, but…” Dylas considered the slope. Considered Doug.

Remembered Doug, lying in the snow, flower petals encircling his head. Dylas made up his mind.

“But I’m going first.”

“ _What?_ ” Doug sounded highly offended. “Dude, c’mon!”

Dylas crossed his arms. “I’m serious!”

Doug rolled his eyes again, harder. “I’m not _that_ badly hurt.”

“I’m _taller_ ,” Dylas countered.

“I…You…” Doug spluttered for a moment, face turning redder than his hair. “You’re a _dick_ that’s what you are!” he snapped.

Dylas’ frustration reached melting point. “I’m trying to make sure we don’t _die_ out here!” he shouted.

“ _So am I!_ ” Doug yelled back. His voice cracked hoarsely but he soldiered on. “At least _I’ve_ done this before!”

Dylas glared at the drop and stamped his foot. “Well, how hard can it be?”

He hadn’t quite meant it say it out loud.

Doug opened his mouth, closed it again, and gave Dylas a look that was pure contempt. “You know what? Fine!” He crossed his arms and jerked his chin expectantly at the ravine. “Be my guest.”

Oh. Well.

Crap.

Dylas inched his way down, gingerly testing his footholds. The earth and rock seemed firm enough, but it was impossible to be sure. It didn’t help that Dylas’ feet were so numb he couldn’t tell he was secure until he was actually standing.

“How is it?” Doug asked. He was sitting at the edge, watching. Some of the anger was gone from his voice, though Dylas didn’t risk looking up. He still felt kind of light headed; slightly dizzy, in fact.

Dylas took a deep breath and moved his feet further down. “Seems to be al-”

His right leg buckled.

Dylas plummeted, skidding down the sharp incline before tumbling backwards head over heels. It was over in a second, but even when the spinning stopped he didn’t move, _couldn’t_ move. Dylas clutched his leg and swore at the top of his lungs.

“Dylas?! Oh, crap, Dylas?!”

Squinting through streaming eyes, Dylas watched Doug scramble haphazardly down, sliding awkwardly on his back and tripping when he reached the bottom. Doug crawled forward on his hands and knees.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to get a look at Dylas’ leg. “You slipped?”

Gradually, Dylas slowed his panting to deep, measured breaths. The pain was starting to fade, numbness creeping back in. Already it was bearable again.

“It… yeah,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Foothold went.”

The lie came easily, and he didn’t regret it. Not when some of the worry left Doug’s face, and he forced a cocky grin.

“See? Told you!”

“Sure, Survival Shrimp," Dylas even managed a smile, "I’ll listen next time.” He sat up, testing his leg, and got slowly to his feet. Doug followed him up, hovering awkwardly as Dylas risked putting weight on his injury. He winced, sharply, as fresh pain lanced through the bone.

“Hey.” Doug’s hands on his shoulders were firm and steadying. Dylas only realised he’d closed his eyes when he opened them to find Doug staring worriedly up at him, all trace of humour gone. “Lean on me, ok?”

Dylas swallowed, thickly, and nodded. “Ok.”

They carried on, slowly, over the icy wasteland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of ran away with me. I definitely had fun writing it though!
> 
> If everything goes to (my) plan, next update should be more intense~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I babysit for a family sometimes, and last night the mum didn't come back until around 2am =_= I didn't have access to my computer until today. Tried to make up for it though! This chapter was originally going to be split.

Every time he thought things couldn't get worse...

Doug had wrapped up Dylas’ broken leg, but it did barely anything to help. The dizziness hadn’t gone away, had got worse even, and suddenly Dylas was the invalid. For a while he’d kept on insisting he was fine, he could walk by himself, but when Doug had eventually given in Dylas couldn’t take more than a few steps before falling.

A chill wind picked up, blasting its way through their thick layers of clothes. Dylas shuddered through each step, sweat feeling icy on his face. Beside him Doug was fighting shivers. They were going to stop soon. They _needed_ to stop soon. But they kept on walking anyway.

“They snow’s thinning out,” Doug said quietly, after what felt like hours of silence. Dylas lifted his heavy head and gazed blankly around. Doug was right, snow that had been waist-high was now down to his knees, and rocks and logs were poking up from beneath it. They grey on the horizon had even stretched and grown, revealing itself to be the start of a dense forest. Snow lay thick on the trees, but underneath them Dylas could just about see a layer of dark, warm brown. He had never been so glad to see mud.

“Think you can make it that far?” Doug asked, following Dylas’ gaze.

Dylas swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Think so,” he rasped. He missed the concerned look Doug shot him.

“Want a drink?”

Dylas swallowed again, though it felt like rubbing two sheets of sandpaper together. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Water would be good.”

Doug stopped, so Dylas stopped with him. They sat down, Dylas stretching his leg out with a groan.

“I can do better,” said Doug. He pulled out half a bottle of Hot Juice.

It tasted every bit as good as Dylas had imagined.

Spicy, yes, but not in a way that made his tongue burn and beg for water. Spicy in a way that warmed his insides, helped to chase away the sting of the wind. Sweet, too, but kind of like how cherry tomatoes are sweet, and mixed with a delicious flavour Dylas had never tasted before. _W_ _et_ , not as wet as water maybe, but enough to quench his thirst and soothe Dylas’ throat. It even made his leg feel a bit less awful.

“Good stuff, right?” Doug grinned. “Drink it all, if you want.”

It was certainly tempting. Dylas took another mouthful, then shook his head, offering the bottle to Doug. “You can finish it.”

“Really? You’re still doing this?” Doug sounded exasperated, though he took the bottle and drank. “You don’t have to look after me, y’know. I’m not _weak_.”

“I don’t think you are,” Dylas said quickly. “I just, uh…” He trailed off. Doug was looking at him curiously, head tilted slightly to the side.

“Just what?” he asked.

Dylas shook his head to clear it. “J-just, we should get going,” he said, moving to push himself up.

“Oh…” Doug sounded kind of disappointed, though he helped Dylas anyway, getting under his right arm again to take weight off his bad leg. It was surely hurting Doug’s back, and who knew was it was doing to his injuries, but he hadn’t complained even once. Hadn’t even joked about lame horses.

It didn’t help. Dylas wishes they could fight like usual, wished all he had was a… a twisted ankle or something, something Doug could tease him about. Dylas hadn’t even said anything, for all Doug knew it was only a sprain, but… the way he was acting…

They kept walking. The trees got nearer. Dylas was just starting to think they’d make it without another break, when the snow beneath their feet went suddenly kind of soft and

 _collapsed_.

Dylas had just enough time to swear, loudly, before landing half on his ass and half on top of Doug, who was spitting out snow between curses. Dylas shook hair out of his face and quickly looked around; they’d fallen down another ravine. The real question was why they hadn’t noticed-

One very startled Sechs was staring at them over his fire.

Dylas’ instinct was to run.

Doug’s was not.

With a battle cry that sounded more like a scream, he launched himself over the fire. The Sechs dropped his udon as Doug crashed into him, hammering with his fists.

“ _Dylas!_ ” he shouted, “ _Go!_ ”

Adrenaline was rushing through his body and Dylas’ leg didn’t even twinge. He stood, but didn’t run. The Sechs soldier had been caught off guard but he was wearing some kind of armour, thick white padding deflecting most of the blows, and Dylas still had Doug’s sword.

“ _You_ move!” Dylas readied himself. Stood in his fighting stance he began charging energy between his hands. “I got this!”

Doug didn’t have time to reply. The Sechs shoved him off violently and reached for a spear propped against the wall. It was all the time Dylas needed.

Blue lighting hit the Sechs chest and slammed him through the shelter wall. At the same time, pain lanced through Dylas’ head. The remains of the ceiling caved in, thick chunks of snow pummelling Dylas and burying Doug, who hadn’t stood up. Dylas struggled his way forward, feeling blindly through the snow until he caught Doug’s wrist.

The soldier was also getting up. He looked slightly dazed, and his armour was smoking, but he fixed his eyes on Doug and shouted, “Syra! _They’re here!_ ”

 _Now_ Dylas ran.

He yanked Doug up and they bolted, stumbling through chunks of ice and over rocky ground. The forest lay in front of them, a hundred yards, maybe less. If they could make it, maybe they’d have a chance.

The earth beside them erupted with fire. Dylas’ leg bent awkwardly and he fell hard, taking Doug with him. Turning onto his back, looked up in time to see the female soldier advancing.

“Give me my sword!” Doug yelled. There was not time to hesitate, Dylas tore his bag open, ripping stitches, and grabbed the sheathed Defender. Doug tore it away from him and stood, blade drawn. He was shaking hard and gasping for breath but if looks could kill, the Sechs would be dead already. Dylas got up. He balled his fists and gathered his power.

The man had joined the woman and they were approaching together. A helmet covered the woman’s face but the man looked almost bored, not even angry despite his split lip and bruised cheek.

“I’m disappointed!” he called, voice raised above the frigid wind. “I thought you’d know better, kid.”

Doug made a choked, strangled sound. “Riker!” he shouted, no, _begged_. “Riker, you don’t have to do this!”

“Of course he does,” the woman said, speaking up at last. She sounded calm, serene, like she was taking a stroll through a pleasant garden. “You know the punishment for traitors.”

“ _You lied to me!_ ” Doug cried, a panicked edge to his voice. “ _You said the dragon murdered my clan!_ ”

The Sechs were close by then, far too close, and it was clear that the talking was over. Dylas stepped forward, heart beating in his mouth. Fire flashed in the woman’s hands and the man raised his spear. Doug struck first.

He swung, wildly, and was blocked by the spear. Dylas followed and engaged the woman, fist aimed straight at her jaw. She blocked, kicked, but Dylas didn’t break away, couldn’t back off, because in that instant he realised she needed space to use her magic. A well-aimed strike sent her helmet flying and for a moment Dylas thought he had an edge.

He wasn’t expecting the spear.

It swept him off his feet and he hit the ground hard. Stars danced behind his eyelids for a moment as he struggled to get up. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Doug caught by the same attack and fall to land beside him.

Fire hit the earth just as Dylas grabbed Doug’s hood and yanked him back. Thick steam filled the air. Dylas shot his lightning through the fog, heard the man cry out in surprise and pain.

Doug grabbed his arm.

For a split second, their eyes met, and each knew exactly what the other was thinking.

They made another break for the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm still not too sure about how my action scenes read. Any tips would be welcome~
> 
> Also! I'm going to be starting a writing class on Monday evenings. It'll probably affect my updates and I might have to change the schedule. Just a heads up!


	10. Chapter 10

Dylas crashed blindly through undergrowth, one arm raised to protect his face, the other held tight by Doug’s hand. Each step threatened to trip them, and they could hear the Sechs shouting so terrifyingly close. Twigs and branches snatched at Dylas’ clothes and he could feel the pain creeping back into his leg.

“Come on,” Doug panted, maybe to Dylas or maybe himself. “Come on… _Come on!_ ”

They broke through into a small clearing. Thorns snared Dylas’ legs and he fell, caught himself, and tripped into Doug’s back.

Doug had gone completely still.

Many pairs of hungry eyes stared from beneath the branches. White lips pulled back to reveal yellowed fangs. Dylas froze, forgetting the Sechs completely, eyes and ears trained solely on the pack of monsters in front of him as the leader gave a low, warning growl.

The steady beat their pursuer's footsteps approached with all the subtlety of a brass band. The Sechs broke through the line of trees just feet from Dylas' back, but he couldn't move, couldn't  _breathe_.

“Going to fight again?” A cocky voice asked.

“ _Riker!_ ” the woman hissed. “Shut _up!_ ”

The wolves weighed their choices. Two healthy, armed humans or two sick, exhausted ones.

Syra and Riker slowly backed away and were gone.

Dylas dropped his bag, grabbed Doug’s hand, and _ran_.

With a mad panic even the Sechs couldn’t inspire, Dylas ran without thinking, driven only by fear. He could hear the wolves behind them, glimpse them through the trees them on either side. Ready to strike, waiting for an opportunity. Dylas tripped, fell, tumbled down a shallow bank. Got up. Grabbed Doug. Kept running.

They were dead. They were dead, they were dead, _they were dead, they were_

The ground gave way and Dylas plunged into icy water. He struggled forward, gasping from shock, and reached desperately for the opposite bank. He clawed his way up, pulled Doug with shaking arms, and staggered onto the frozen mud. He made it to the middle of another small clearing before he whole body screamed at him to stop and that time, he had to listen. Barely standing, Dylas turned to face the water, and prepared to fight as much as he could.

The river wasn’t wide. Desperate and starving, the wolves were testing the water, lining themselves up to jump.

Doug was on the ground, whole body heaving as he struggled to breathe. Barely conscious, but somehow he managed to speak. " _Go_ ," he whispered, pushing weakly at Dylas' legs. "Run... _please_  get out of here!"

But even if he'd wanted to, Dylas couldn’t move. He swayed on the spot, and watched with a hopeless sort of calm as the pack leader took a running jump at a narrower part of the river and began to stalk towards him. _This is it_ , Dylas thought, even as he raised his fists in one last attempt at defense. _I’m going to die_. He wondered if his life really would flash before his eyes.

A ball of fur struck the wolf and sent it flying back across the river.

 _...I’m hallucinating_ , Dylas thought, watching what appeared to be a Wooly hit the pack of wolves like a bowling ball. _Or maybe I’m already dead._ Perhaps he hadn’t made it out of the river and had frozen to death. He felt cold enough.

In a blur of gold the wolves were punched, pummeled, slammed and kicked. The pack scattered under the onslaught, running back into the forest in a confused, frightened mess. The Wooly jumped back over the river, stood in front of Dylas, and baa’d.

Dylas hadn’t expected the Angel of Death to present itself this way, but he’d take what he was given. The Wooly, though, did not reach out to take his soul or even do more than blink. It seemed to be waiting expectantly. Dylas wondered vaguely if he was supposed to do something, but his thoughts felt as cold and numb as his body.

With a flash of light, the Wooly turned into what _looked_ like a human. Long past surprise by that point, Dylas observed him, the blond haired and blue eyed man who was looking intensely concerned.

“I’m so sorry!” said the person. “I thought you'd understand me. Are you alright?”

Which didn’t seem like something the Herald of the Afterlife would say.

“ _No_ ,” Doug said hoarsely, “we are _not_ alright.”

He couldn't go on. It was too much. He'd reached his limit. Dylas’ vision went grey and stars swam through the clouds, dizzyingly. The world tipped sideways and he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting to one of my favourite parts of the story. Now that the ~~set up~~ action part of the fic is ending, we're getting closer to the _emotions_ :D


	11. Chapter 11

_Ugh…_

Doug’s mouth was completely dry. He tried moving his tongue but it felt like a lump of dried meat stuck in his mouth. He tried opening his eyes but they were gummed together by sleep so he prised them apart with his fingers.

No pain.

Doug blinked at an unfamiliar ceiling before slowly pushing himself up. He felt… _good_. Better than he had in days. He didn’t even have a headache, his body just felt very heavy and he _really_ needed a drink.

He turned his head. The room came into focus.

Wooden walls, lined with shelves covered in dried leaves. A crowded table to his right, plants and medical tools arranged neatly. Doug glimpsed a stack of books just outside his field of vision, and sunlight streamed through a window. The air smelled clean and herb-y, with a tinge of smoke perhaps. Doug closed his eyes again in relief.

Safe. Somehow, he was safe. But… but then what about…

Doug’s heart gave a jolt and he sat up, looking around desperately. Had he really come so far, been through so much, to lose Dylas _now?_

Just before the panic could really set in, someone else moved on the bed.

Dylas was right beside him.

The relief made Doug’s body feel weak. He watched for a moment, tension draining away, as Dylas shifted slightly, face creasing for a second, before settling down again with a gentle sigh. A small smile lit Doug’s face.

 _Alive_.

He reached out, wanting to touch Dylas' hair, maybe brush his ear and see if it flicked, wanting to be as sure as he could that this was _real_ and not a vivid dream. But he thought better of it; Dylas clearly needed his sleep. Pushing the heavy covers off, Doug found his clothes had been changed and it made his skin prickle. He swung his legs onto the floor and slowly got up, testing his body. He felt like he was waking up from nothing more than a deep, heavy sleep, though admittedly he was still pretty tired. Exhausted even. It might take a couple more nights to fully recover. But.

 _They were alright_.

The carpet was soft and faintly warm. Doug tiptoed his way over to the desk and had a peek at the books. All medical jargon, though he clapped a hand over his mouth, fighting a laugh, when he found one titled ‘Equestrian Anatomy’.

“Ah! You’re up!”

Doug jumped about a foot in the air and span around, colliding with the desk. He relaxed a bit when he found that the voice belonged to a little old woman, but didn’t approach her. It would take more than a good night’s sleep to make Doug trust strangers.

“Who are you?” he croaked, throat still parched. The woman held up a placating hand.

“My name is Marjorie,” she said kindly. “I’m a witch, and you’re in my apothecary. What’s your name, young man?”

Doug was still wary, but there was something about the old lady that reminded him so much of Blossom it was almost painful. He groped for the chair beside the desk and sat down heavily.

“Doug,” he said. “I’m Doug, and, that’s Dylas.” He looked at his friend, lying so still on the bed, worry gnawing his insides. “Why hasn’t he woken up as well?”

Marjorie approached the bed and gave Dylas a quick check, one hand on his chest and the other on his forehead. “I’m afraid your friend was in far worse shape than you were, Doug,” she said gravely, turning back around. “He was very ill. The healing sleep may last quite a while longer.”

Doug stared into her eyes and couldn’t find a lie. Just motherly concern.

“Oh Gods.” With a hard sniff, Doug buried his face in his hands. He'd known, somewhere in his heart, how bad it had been. That Dylas had been pushing himself past his limit, pulling that sled, building that shelter, sharing his food… running on an injured leg. But it was another thing to see it, hear it, to  _really_ know. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Dylas…”

Footsteps, and then a warm, wrinkly hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “There there,” said the witch. “I won’t ask you for your story yet, but it seems like you’ve been through quite the ordeal. How about we have some tea, and I’ll explain where you are.”

Doug took a deep breath and scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. There was still a lump in his throat he didn’t think he could talk around, so he nodded at the woman, at Marjorie, and with one last look at Dylas, let himself be steered away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Doug!
> 
> ...and now to finish RF3 so I don't end up spoiling myself for this fic


	12. Chapter 12

Doug wandered aimlessly around Sharance, head still spinning from the information overload. Turned out Marjorie got chatty over tea.

From what he’d managed to work out, they hadn’t been on the Icegale Steppes. Rather, they’d been on the Vale Icefields. Which sucked. Because it meant Doug’s guess had been off by over a hundred miles. Though in his defense, he thought angrily, kicking at a tuft of grass, they looked _exactly_ the same and he’d been to the ‘Fields _once_. And as a child! ‘ _Been here before_ ’ his wet, frozen ass!

“You doing ok there, dude?”

It was the fishman, strolling along the path with his rod over one shoulder. He approached and Doug tensed instinctively; this guy… Carl? Lois? Whichever, he’d been part of Marjorie’s explanation, but Doug hadn’t picked up much more than ‘he likes to fish and has a sister’. In person, the guy turned out to be tall, green haired, and _toned_. Doug vaguely wondered what Leon would think.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the fisherman continued, oblivious to Doug’s mounting unease. “I’m Carlos,” oh “and I find fishing’s a great way to chill out and spend time if you’re looking for something to do!”

It was such an obvious ploy to get talking that Doug rejected it on principle, but… Fishing. Fish. Dylas.

“Uhh, maybe later,” he said. “Say, do you know anyone who makes sashimi?”

Carlos blinked for a second, before breaking into a radiant grin. “Sure!” he said. “You want Blaise, he runs the diner. Should I walk you there?”

“No thanks,” said Doug, quickly retreating. “I’ll find it myself.”

Carlos watched him go, somewhat mystified. Then he shrugged, and continued towards the beach.

Doug slowed his jog to a brisk walk and huffed out a sigh, hands deep in his borrowed pockets. Jeez, and he’d thought word spread quickly around Selphia, apparently everyone in Sharance knew him as the mysterious Dwarf who’d been found out in the wilderness. Doug wanted to be left alone. Hell, he  _wanted_ to be with Dylas, joking around and arguing, being _normal,_ but that wouldn’t be an option for another day at least. He _could_ go back to the apothecary, but he hated the idea of being cooped up inside even more than he hated strangers.

He was hiding from Dylas, he guessed. Stupid, maybe, but what else was new?

Doug’s slow meander took him away from the shops, away from the people. As he turned a corner, he was met by an enormous tree.

Gazing upwards at the branches, he found himself stopping. Something about the thick pink blossoms seemed familiar but Doug couldn’t quite place it. As he started walking again, he heard sounds coming from beneath the huge roots and his curiosity won over. Peering into the space, Doug was met by rows of fields, bursting with crops. Four monsters were lumbering around, all massive beasts with fangs and horns, carefully breaking sticks and rocks among the lush plants.

The… Wooly-Man? Man-Wooly? was tending them, going around with a watering can and fertilizer. As Doug watched, the farmer straightened up, stretched his back, and turned to offer a smile.

“Hey there!” said Micah. “Glad to see you’re up!”

Doug approached, a little cautious still, but he trusted this guy more than he trusted the others. Micah reminded him of Lest, and besides, Doug owed him his and Dylas’ life.

“Hi,” he said, a bit awkward. “Thanks for. Y’know. Saving us.”

Micah wiped his forehead and approached, stepping carefully between turnips. “I’m just glad I got there in time,” he said seriously. “The Vale River’s a dangerous place. What were you doing out there?”

Memories came back in an uncomfortable rush and Doug shivered. He swore he could still feel the snow, sometimes, even though it was Spring in the rest of the world. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, more coldly than he’d meant to.

Micah looked taken aback, but gave an understanding smile. “Sure,” he said. “How’s your friend, by the way?”

“Still sleeping,” said Doug, glancing uncomfortably at the ground.

“Hey.” Micah came a little closer. “He’ll be alright. Marjorie’s a great healer, and I’d know, she’s patched me up plenty of times!” A pause. “...Say, uh, you’re from Selphia, right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

“That’s great!” Micah said happily. “When you’re ready, Raven can help you back. She goes there regularly to trade.”

“Raven? Oh yeah, the… materials trader?” Doug knew her, kind of. She stopped by the shop sometimes for bits and pieces, but they hadn’t said more than a few words to each other. In fact Raven hadn’t said more than a few words to anyone. Doug frowned at the dirt a few feet away, thinking.

The town, the tree, he was remembering now. Remembering staring through a telescope on the edge of Selphia, looking at the blossoms not fifty miles away.

 _Fifty miles_.

Their course had been set for hundreds, a several nights’ journey from Selphia, and they had made it _fifty miles_.

Doug hadn’t made it to the mountains.

Hadn’t even been close.

His clan was just as far away as it always had been.

A shudder ran through Doug’s body and he felt suddenly lightheaded, but at the same time a desperate energy was clawing at his chest, making him want to scream and shout and curse the Sechs, made him want to laugh until he cried and sob his wretched eyes out on the earth at Micah’s feet.

“Are you alright??” Micah asked frantically. “Should I get Marjorie?”

Doug took a deep, aching breath and shook his head. “No.” _No_. He didn't want to see that witch again. He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted. Wanted so much,  _too_ much, no wonder he'd never got it.

“Ok, uh, let’s sit down.” Hands on his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the wet ground. The damp seeped into the seat of his pants, but it gave Doug something to focus on as he clenched his teeth and fought with himself. “Um, are you hungry? I could make you something to eat…”

Doug looked up and forced a smile. “Have any onigiri?” he asked weakly.

“I can make some. Plain, toasted, salmon…”

“Salmon would be amazing right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guessed Sharance's distance from Selphia, but since the tree is visible even without the telescope, it can't be very far--and, you can have Raven visit every day if you want (sorry Raven..... i don't even buy anything..... i just want to see you) so she must be able to commute.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a bit of a short update today. I'm saving stuff for the next chapter!

Doug dragged his feet along Sharance’s paths, quest for sashimi long since forgotten. His body felt heavy, his thoughts felt slow. People were staring, townsfolk and travelers alike, but so long as they didn’t talk to him Doug couldn’t bring himself to care.

He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, just stuck to the outskirts of town and made sure to keep away from the wilderness. Micah was following with as much subtlety as Illuminata, that same concerned look on his face that hadn’t left since their meeting under the tree. It made Doug’s gut twist in both annoyance and shame.

He was grateful that he’d been rescued, that they were both safe, and so relieved that the people of Sharance were kind. They could’ve so easily been killed, or caught by the Sechs and sent deep into their territory, or at the very least stranded miles away from Selphia. In a few more days, Doug would be home like it had never happened.

Except it had. Now that he was safe he had to deal with it.

And Dylas…

They’d been _friends_. Kind of weird friends, maybe; the sort that liked to harass and fight with each other, loved flinging insults and sometimes fists. But it had been good, it had been _fun_ , and Doug had barely thought twice about Dylas going with him. They enjoyed being around each other, it had felt natural.

And then… _t_ _his_.

How could they ever look at each other the same way again? Would Dylas even _want_ to look at him again?

Doug had never asked, or expected, someone to go with him. He should have refused, gone through everything all by himself and it would have been awful but _at least_ he wouldn’t be stuck with this _guilt_. With knowing someone could have died, knowing his _best friend_ could have died. And Dylas had been so good about it all, taken care of him, when Doug was sure that he himself would've got them both killed.

He stopped. Stared vacantly at the ground, not really seeing it. He could practically hear Granny telling him off, reminding him he was lucky. Saying how much she cared for him, how Kiel and Vishnal and _Dylas_  cared for him, how damn upset everyone would’ve been if horse-face hadn’t been around to save his stupid ass.

Dylas had said he’d wanted to travel. Maybe he’d remember that, and want to see the world. Maybe he’d want to get as far away from Doug as possible. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he wouldn’t even pass the gates of Selphia again and… and they’d keep on being friends. That's what Doug wanted most, he realised-to stay close to Dylas. It was such a selfish thought that it made him feel ill.

After a while he found himself back at the apothecary. It had been midday when he’d woken up and it was evening by then, the hours having swept on by as Doug walked listless around. He stared at the door, thoughts moving an inch an hour, before biting the bullet and going inside. He could glimpse the witch girl in the room to his right, stirring an enormous cauldron. Marjorie was nowhere to be found.

Doug shuffled inside and approached the bed. Dylas hadn’t moved except to turn his head slightly, still deeply asleep. It was to be expected, but still…

Exhaustion lay deep in his bones, and the bed looked so inviting. He hesitated for a second, wondering if it would make things weird, but he was confused and afraid and so damn tired. Doug pulled back the heavy blankets and crawled onto the mattress, turning to lie on his side.

Dylas moved suddenly, head rolling back and forth on the pillow. Doug held his breath, sure that Dylas was about to wake up, but after a moment he went still. Half disappointed, half relieved, Doug pulled the covers over them both, closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Doug yawned and stretched, early morning sunlight filtering through the drawn curtains. He woke up slowly, remembering yesterday piece by piece. The guilt and stress were still weighing heavily on Doug’s mind, but his head felt significantly clearer and the crushing anxiety was gone.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes and sat up. He’d rolled closer to Dylas during the night and took a moment to examine him. Dylas still looked pale, and there were dark shadows under his eyes despite how long he’d been unconscious. Marjorie had explained that this ‘healing sleep’ thing wasn’t the same as normal rest, it was fixing injuries and would take its own sort of toll on Dylas’ body. It was safe and part of the magic, but still. Doug wouldn’t be able to truly breathe right until Dylas woke up.

Which didn’t seem to be happening no matter how long he stared.

The spell had to run its course. Doug sighed quietly to himself and got out of bed, pausing to tuck Dylas in again. Fresh clothes had been laid out for him and he glanced around furtively before getting changed. Stretching some more to ease the stiffness out of his arms, Doug wandered towards the other side of the clinic where he found Marjorie and Marian setting up breakfast.

Looked like today would be about the same as yesterday. Doug ate his porridge and wondered what, if anything, he’d be allowed to do to fill the time. Sharance wasn’t very big, especially compared to Selphia, and he couldn’t exactly see Marjorie encouraging him to fight monsters.

Speaking of Marjorie…

“Oh, I forgot,” she said, halfway through spreading jam onto her toast. “Doug, dear, would you mind fetching me some dried Moondrop flower? It’s on the table with all the books.”

“Yeah, freeloader!” Marian laughed. “Do some work!”

“Actually,” said Marjorie, “Marian can get it.”

“Huh??”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Doug got up quickly before anything exploded. “The books, table, right.”

He really didn’t mind. He knew what Moondrops looked like, even dried, and it sorta felt like working at the shop. Maybe he’d spend some of his time helping out at the apothecary, Doug mused, going back round to the other room. He did sort of owe Marjorie his life after all, and was used to that sort of work. It would be boring, but _normal_.

Doug reached the table and picked up the bundle of dried herbs. What was it used for? Tea maybe?

“Doug?” Dylas asked drowsily. “Is that you?”

Doug dropped the flowers. He turned, almost tripped over his own feet, and found Dylas sitting up in bed with his hair tangled everywhere and pillow creases all over his cheek.

“ _Dylas!_ ” Herbs dropped and trampled on the floor, Doug launched himself onto the bed and pulled Dylas into a crushing hug.

Dylas froze for a moment before returning the hug, though not quite as hard. “Are you ok?” he asked groggily, patting Doug’s back weakly a few times. “Where are we?”

Doug pulled away, but not far. “Am _I_ ok?” he asked, incredulous. “ _You’re_ the one who’s been sleeping this long!”

“I have?” Dylas frowned slightly. He still looked half asleep, and Doug remembered how he’d felt after he’d just woken up, all heavy and slow. It was probably twice as bad for Dylas.

“Uh, well, we’re in a town called Sharance,” Doug began, thinking back to the questions he’d had in the beginning. “It’s a nice place, and it’s Noradian land so no Sechs. Let me see… Oh, the were-Wooly who saved us lives in a giant tree and he’s called Micah, he has a farm underneath it too… And we’re in an apothecary called The Witch’s Caldron, run by Marjorie and her granddaughter.” Doug paused for breath. “Did I get everything?”

“...is the Wooly or the tree called Micah?”

Doug burst into laughter. He couldn’t help it, and it felt so _good_ to laugh. “The W-Wooly,” he gasped, clutching at his sides. “The _Wooly_ is M-Micah!”

Dylas still looked vaguely confused but he nodded anyway. Doug took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself down, just in time for Marjorie to enter the room.

“My my!” she cackled. “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake quite yet, but you seem to be recovering fine.” She approached the bed and went about taking Dylas’ pulse. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine I… think?” He looked uncertainly at Doug. “I’m tired.”

Marjorie nodded sagely and stepped back. “Naturally,” she said. “You can quite a lot of healing to do, a nasty infection on top of a broken leg-”

“Broken?” Doug cut in. He looked from Marjorie to Dylas and back again. That fall… it hadn’t been enough to _break_ a bone, had it? Doug had assumed a bad sprain, if that, so… so unless something had gone _really_ wrong in that fall... then…

“I’ll make a tea that will help you wake up a bit,” said Marjorie, kindly, while Doug’s thoughts raced inside his head. “I expect you two have quite a lot of catching up to do!”

Doug wanted to know. _Needed_ to know. What had happened, that first night and day when he’d been unconscious. What had happened _before_ that, during the crash? What else had Dylas hidden, while he was pulling the sled and making the dugout and helping Doug through the snow? Just how injured and sick had he _really_ been?

And why had he hidden it?

Words failed him moment Doug went to speak. Dylas looked unfocused and confused, foggy with sleep still. His head kept dipping like he was having trouble staying awake. He wouldn’t be up for an interview any time soon.

Marjorie hummed to herself as she went to make tea, leaving Doug with far more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep on meaning for chapters to be longer, but then I reach a good stopping point. i guess this one could've been a double, but unfortunately my evening class has effected the time I have to write and I didn't get any done on Monday u_u I'm trying to keep to the schedule, though!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the schedule slip D: I've been a bit under the weather and wanted this chapter to be good. I've had it planned since the very start.

Dylas was allowed out of bed once the tea kicked in, but under strict instruction that he mustn’t strain himself or be left on his own. Far more awake by then, Dylas had the energy to be grumpy and insist he was fine, but a warning glare from Marjorie shut him up. Doug watched from the sidelines and realised how _different_ his own treatment had been-a cup of tea and some snacks and he’d been free to explore, fully healed. Dylas wasn’t hurt but he’d woken much sooner than expected, and Marjorie was worried he’d get sick again.

Doug recalled that morning in the cabin with deep, deep shame. Dylas had toasted their onigiri while looking like death warmed over, but he hadn’t complained, and Doug hadn’t said a word. And after, below that ravine, Doug remembered the unnatural heat of Dylas’ body after his leg had been hurt… _broken…_  Feeling it even through the cold and their layers of clothes. He should have _made_ them stop and rest, but the forest had looked so close.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked quietly, once Marjorie had left so that Dylas could get changed.

Dylas’ sigh was muffled by his old shirt. He pulled it off, and Doug found himself staring at Dylas’ bare chest. He mentally shook himself, but kept looking.

“I’m fine,” Dylas insisted. “Just tired.” He _looked_ fine, not a bruise or scratch on him. Magic healing really was amazing.

“Are you checking me out?” Dylas asked, putting his new shirt on.

“Wha-? No!” Doug yelped. “Just making sure you’re ok!”

“Uh _huh_.” There was a teasing look to Dylas’ smile that was usually found on Leon. Doug tried to think of a response, something jokey and sarcastic, but his mind drew a blank. Gods. If he couldn’t joke around, things really had changed.

Dylas’ smile dropped and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’d like to change my pants now.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Doug turned around. Apparently they weren’t good enough friends for _that_ yet. Though honestly, after seeing each other sleeping, injured, and sick, not to mention in their swimsuits numerous times, would it really be that strange for two guys to… uh…

He wasn’t gonna finish that.

A few seconds of shuffling. Doug stared at the window and watched a cloud lazily cross the sky. Dammit, now that his thoughts had _gone there_ he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the sounds of Dylas getting dressed, taking one foot off the floor, putting it down through a trouser leg, raising the other. It was just because Doug was concerned, obviously.

“Even a tail hole,” Dylas said to himself. Then, “I’m ready.”

Doug suddenly remembered the anatomy book and fought a grin as he turned back around.

“It’s not _that_ weird!” Dylas protested, looking at his tail. “Leon has one too, and it’s very useful for things l-like… uh…”

“Swatting flies?” Doug suggested.

“Yeah! I mean no! S-stop it!” Dylas spluttered, tail swishing side to side through the hole in his new pants. Doug snorted a laugh.

“I’ll kick you,” Dylas threatened, cheeks flushed. “Are we going or not?”

“Sure, sure. Hold your horses!” Doug laughed. His breathing felt easier all of a sudden, like a weight had lifted off his chest. Dylas aimed a lazy kick but something seemed to happen. There was a sharp thud when Dyas put his foot down and his eyes looked unfocused as he swayed.

“Are you alright??” Doug asked, stepping forward quickly. He raised his hands and touched Dylas’ arms, ready to support him, but Dylas shrugged him off.

“Yeah,” said Dylas, giving his head an experimental shake. “Just a bit dizzy… That witch wasn’t kidding around, I guess.”

Doug took another breath and the weight was back, worse than ever. “Dylas,” he said, a lump in his throat. “Dylas I’m-”

“Are we going or not?” Dylas asked sharply, rolling his eyes. Doug swallowed and forced another grin.

“If you’re ready!” he said. “I know the town alright, I can show you around.”

They left the shop, walking through the main street and into the plaza. A few of the townsfolk were milling around, watching still, but none approached. Doug had considered heading towards the beach, figuring he could put up with fishing for an hour if it would make Dylas happy, but some weird squealing about fish and squid had made him reconsider.

Sharance was _weird_.

He took a peek at Dylas and found him looking around with interest, ears pricked in a way Doug had learned meant calm and reasonably happy. He wasn’t sure _when_ he’d started reading those signals, but probably everyone who hung around horse-face did. Must be strange though, having your emotions on display like that. The thought had Doug repressing a shudder.

“So,” he said, trying to fill the silence. “What do you think?”

“This is a nice town,” Dylas remarked. “A bit like Selphia, I guess, but quieter.”

“You really think so?” Doug asked, glancing around. The buildings and roads were totally different, plus there was that giant tree. “I don’t think they’re similar at all.”

“Maybe not in layout,” said Dylas, “but the atmosphere, the people… feels familiar, right?”

The shopkeeper’s daughter walked past, yawning widely and dragging her feet. Doug watched her sourly. “No,” he muttered.

“Hm? Well, it sure is quieter,” Dylas continued, “so it’s more like the first town I lived in, I guess.”

“...The first town?” Doug asked. A foreboding feeling was settling in his gut, though he didn’t quite know why.

“Yeah.” Dylas gazed into the middle distance with a soft, nostalgic smile. It was such a rare expression that Doug found himself captured by it. “It was an old seaside town. Classic buildings. Peaceful.”

Doug’s mouth had gone strangely dry. “Do you miss it?” he asked.

Dylas’ smile faded and he gave Doug an odd look. “Of course I do,” he said. “I spent my childhood there.”

“Of course,” echoed Doug. Stupid thing to ask. If he missed his clan then obviously Dylas would miss his first home.

“I wanted to go visit,” Dylas murmured, all trace of a smile gone, “but it… it wasn’t on any of Arthur’s maps. I guess this is the closest I’ll come.”

Doug stopped walking.

Blood was rushing in his ears, but his thoughts were calm. Because it all made sense, now. Of course Dylas wouldn’t want to live in Selphia anymore. Of course he wouldn’t want to see Doug again. Dylas would move to Sharance. He’d get a job at the restaurant, buy a little house, go fishing every day and… and even find someone to marry. It would be good. It would be good for him.

“Doug? Are you alright?”

Doug came back to the present. Birds were singing, wind was blowing through the trees, and Dylas was looking at him in concern.

Doug wanted to plead. To beg Dylas to stay, but at the same time found himself accepting the fact. He’d known it was a possibility, ever since he’d woken in that cabin and seen just what, exactly, he was putting Dylas through. Suspected it when Dylas had woken up and been so distant. And it was so damn _selfish_ of him, wanting Dylas to stick around, but he couldn’t seem to stop these feelings!

“What’s going on? A-are you sick?” Dylas reached out quickly. Doug jerked backwards and slapped the hands away, looking Dylas straight in the eyes.

“Why did you come with me?” His voice portrayed none of the turmoil writing inside. It came out cold and flat. “ _Why?_ ”

Dylas struggled with his words, visibly taken aback. “Well… y-you’re my friend-”

 _“Why did you come?!_ ” Doug shouted, voice ringing around the plaza. “Why would you do that?! _Why would you risk your life?!_ ”

“ _Because I understand!_ ” Dylas shouted back, hands balling into fists. “Because I know how you feel!”

“ _Know_ how I _feel?_ ” Doug laughed mockingly. “ _How_ is your life _anything like mine?_ ”

“ _Are you kidding?_ ” Dylas roared, angrier than Doug had ever seen him. “You think I haven’t-haven’t _lost_ people? Lost them _forever?_ To something I couldn’t control?” He slammed his foot into the ground so hard that Doug swore the earth shook.

 _“I wish I could risk my life looking for my family!_ I wish _anyone_ I knew could still be alive, we all do, but they aren’t, because they _shriveled up_ from old age _a hundred years ago_ while I was-was an _animal!_ They’re _dead_ and Venti’s _gone_ and _nobody is left!_ ” He took a deep, final breath, pain wrought across his face. _“AT LEAST YOU HAVE A CHANCE!_ ”

Doug was stunned into silence. He hadn’t… hadn’t even thought about it like that… hadn’t considered Dylas’ true feelings at all…

His vision was swimming with tears, but he could still see Dylas’ anger change to raw panic as they started to spill down his cheeks.

“No, no don’t… Ah, crap. Doug I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t _apologise!_ You’re right, you bastard!” Doug swiped his arm across his face and turned away, fighting for control. _Why?_ Why did he have to fall apart like this, dammit, he’d been doing so well! He could have treasured the time they had left together, not ruined it! “I just don’t want you to go…”

Warm hands met his shoulders and pulled Doug back around. He looked up to find Dylas staring down, some unreadable mix of confusion, sadness, and hope written on his face. “Doug,” he said, voice shockingly gentle. “I didn’t go through all that just to _leave_.”

Doug broke.

He collapsed forward into Dylas’ arms, body racked by harsh, bitter sobs. It was like all the pain of the last few days was pouring out at once, it was messy and it hurt but Dylas was holding him through it, pulling Doug close and covering him like a shield. He was still so confused, he didn’t get it, but Dylas was there and would _still be there_ and maybe

maybe

they’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are drawing together, but please tell me if anything seems confusing or inexplicable. More will be revealed in the next chapter but I'd like to know if I've missed anything!


	16. Chapter 16

So that hadn’t worked.

They were sitting in a corner of a diner, guided there by the laid back man who ran it. He seemed content to serve them heaps upon heaps of food which, while not quite as good as Porcoline’s, was still incredibly welcome. Dylas had also heard him mention that he had two kids, which probably explained why he was so calm.

Dylas slumped in his chair and looked sidelong at Doug. He would’ve kicked himself if it didn’t make him dizzy.

Talking about his hometown was supposed _distract_ Doug and _calm him down_ , dammit. It was supposed to be something Doug could relate to! Dylas hadn’t wanted to talk about the crash, the Sechs, or the snow. He _still_ didn’t. He was more tired than he’d been in his life, and his head swam if he stood up too fast. He could do without remembering the trauma, if just for one more day.

Doug on the other hand…

He’d had this _look_ about him that made Dylas think he’d let it all out in an avalanche of words the second he got the chance. Go over every agonising detail. It would probably help him. It might even help Dylas. That didn’t mean he _wanted_ _to_.

“Hey guys!” said one of Blaise’s children, a blond girl in a yellow and orange dress. “Anything else you need? I’ll eat anything you can’t finish so order as much as you want~!” She set a plate of cookies on the table. Dylas had never liked them to begin with. The sight of them made his stomach roll. He shoved them to the other side of the table and hoped Collette had a big appetite.

His attention shifted back to Doug, who was aggressively eating risotto and trying to avoid eye contact. Dylas gnawed absently on a carrot and stared down at his plate.

He could think of reasons to be angry, of course. He could blame Doug for being unprepared, for being so gullible, for being reckless. He just wasn’t feeling much except _tired_. Besides, what was the point of ripping into Doug when he already blamed himself? When he’d already broken down and _cried_ about it? That wasn’t something Dylas ever wanted to see again, and besides, _he_ should’ve been more prepared, too. He should’ve brought more food, more health potions, should’ve padded his bag. Should’ve brought spells, weapons, a tent, a _kitchen_. So much would have made survival easier, but he hadn’t thought he’d _need_ it.

The door opened. Dylas payed it no attention, finishing his carrot.

“I heard you were making **disgusting** food again, Blaise!” said the newcomer, and Dylas’ immediate reaction was to share a very confused look with Doug because, uh, what? Except Doug still wasn’t looking at him.

“How **terrible!** ” the stranger continued. Dylas jerked to his feet and got ready to argue, because he’d just spent several days getting hungrier and hungrier and did not want to hear _anyone_ talk crap about good food, but found himself tripping on his words.

“P-P-Porcoline??” Dylas babbled, and immediately realised his mistake. But the resemblance was _uncanny_.

The strange man turned to him with a delighted expression. “ **Un** hello!” he said joyfully. “Do you perhaps **not** know my cousin, Porcoline?”

“Cousin?” Doug blurted, mouth still full. He swallowed quickly and took a gulp of water. “Are you a De Saint-Coquille?”

“ **No** ~!” said the man.

“Sherman speaks in opposites,” Rusk explained. Dylas sat down heavily and rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.

A shadow cut through the light and Dylas raised his head to find Sherman grinning at him eagerly. “How is my **awful** relative?” he asked. “Is he **un** well? How do you know him?”

“He’s doing fine,” Dylas sighed. “And, uh, he’s sort of my employer and… l-legal guardian, I guess?” He’d never really thought about it in those words, but it was the truth.

“Ooh! I’m sure you must be **miserable!** ” Sherman boomed. _I am right now_ , Dylas thought.

“Have some onigiri, Sherman,” Doug said quickly, offering a plate.

“ **Absolutely not**!” said Sherman, and devoured three servings in three seconds.

“Father?” called a voice from outside. A young woman with purple hair poked her head around the door. “Father!” she said crossly, once she’d caught sight of Sherman. “Put that plate down!”

“But Evelyn-”

“No! Enough! Come with me!”

Sherman followed her, reluctantly, and the diner fell quiet again. Dylas’ ears were glued to his scalp.

“…Wow, ” Doug remarked. “Y’know, I’d always thought Porcoline was one-of-kind. The last of his species or something.”

Dylas huffed and poked at a dish of sashimi. “Don’t say that,” he grumbled. “Porco’s a good guy.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t!” Doug said quickly. “Just very uh… unique.”

Dylas glanced over and found Doug looking at the opposite wall. Gods, what was going on that that shrimp’s head? Was he seriously that embarrassed over crying? Maybe he really didn’t know that his ‘cool guy’ image was thinner than rice paper. Dylas wanted to help, he really did, but he wasn’t in the right place for it. Mentally or physicially.

“Are you ok?” Doug asked quietly. “Uh, your ears are doing the thing.”

“Are they?” Dylas reached up to feel his head and ugh, yeah, stupid horse tufts were still pressed down. It caused a wave of discomfort to sweep through his chest, a feeling of _wrongness_ he got sometimes when dealing with the new parts of his body.

“And… I still want to apologise,” Doug mumbled.

“Don’t,” said Dylas firmly. He just wanted to drop it. “It’s my fault for going with you.”

“You got so sick though,” Doug whispered, shrinking into his chair and looking even smaller. “You were sicker than me and I didn’t even notice.”

Dylas didn’t want to talk about it but apparently he had to.

“ _I_ didn’t notice,” he sighed. “I thought _you_ were hurt worse. You spent the first couple of days unconscious! And I only gave you one health potion. I drank two.” He still felt bad about that.

Doug speared a bit of turnip on his fork and looked baffled. “What?” he said. “How did you not notice?”

“I don’t know! I was just worrying about, uh, o-other things.” Ah, dammit, that hadn’t come out right. “Like finding help!” he added quickly. Doug looked unconvinced.

“Hi Blaise!” The doors swung open again; the young man who’d saved them came inside.

“Hey Micah,” said Blaise, “Recipe Bread?”

“Whoa! How could you tell?” Micah laughed. “Two for weapons, two for accessories if you can, please.” He waited, looking around absentmindedly, while Blaise arranged things behind the counter. Micah did a doubletake when he caught sight of Dylas.

“You’re awake!” he said happily, walking over. “Marian told me, but I didn’t think you’d be up this soon. How are you?”

“Tired,” said Dylas. Micah nodded sympathetically.

“Yeah, healing does that,” he said. “Great for health, not so much for energy.”

“Want something to eat?” Doug offered, offering the plate a cookies. “I don’t think we’ll be able to finish this much.”

“Sure, if you’re offering!” Micah helped himself. Dylas watched dully and waited for him to go away.

“So uh… you’re some sort of… were-Wooly?” Doug asked slowly. Micah paused, swallowed, and nodded uncertainly.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” he said. “I can turn into one, and understand other monsters, but I still think like a human. What about you?”

It took Dylas a moment to realised Micah was talking to him.

 _‘I'm friends with the Divine Dragon Ventuswill, and when her time was running out, I sacrificed myself so I could produce runeys for her. I was locked inside a water temple and turned into a lighting-horse-unicorn-thing. Over a hundred years later a guy called Lest defeated me in combat and broke the spell. I turned back into a human but not completely, and of course missed out on over a hundred years of history and culture_.’

“...It’s a long story,” said Dylas.

"Oh, uh, alright," said Micah, clearly disappointed. "You can't understand other monsters, though? I wondered, when I found you. Oh, that reminds me, I should introduce you to Kuruna-"

“Micah, your bread is ready,” said Blaise.

“You could say it’s  _bready!_ ” Collette chirped. Everyone groaned.

"You've said that 87 times now," said Blaise.

“Too bad it has to be _bread_ ,” Doug mused. “Say, Blaise, ever considered Recipe Rice?”

Dylas moved his plate away and set his head down on his folded arms. He didn’t _want_ to sleep. He wanted to be awake. Maybe if he just rested his eyes for a moment… Everyone in the diner seemed to be talking about something or other, whether it be the finer points of baking or lamenting awful puns. Surely no one would notice.

“Dylas?” Doug said quietly. “Are you _sure_ you’re ok?”

Dylas’ head shot up and he shot Doug a glare. “I’m fine!” he complained. “Seriously, just tired. Stop _looking_ at me like that!”

Doug’s pitying expression turned hurt, though no less guilty. “I’m only checking!” he said. “You could still get sick again.”

“And so what if I do?” Dylas asked, louder than he’d meant to. “We’re safe here! It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me!” Doug said hotly. “I _care_ about you, jackass!”

“Yeah w-well,” Dylas began, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t _ask_ you to.”

“I think,” Blaise cut in, “that your friend just wants to feel bad for a while.”

“Well he can do it without _talking_ about it,” Dylas muttered savagely.

“Are you eating that?” Rusk asked.

“Help yourself.” Dylas watched with tired amazement as an entire chocolate cake disappeared.

“Um,” said Micah, “perhaps both of you should try some Relax Tea?”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, Micah,” said Blaise, interrupting in before either Doug or Dylas could refuse.

Dylas rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I don’t want to sleep again,” he muttered. “I want to be _awake_.”

“Really, _both_ of you could do with a nap!” Marjorie scolded.

Everyone jumped and looked towards the door. Marjorie stood with her arms crossed and regarded her patients with an authoritative frown. “ _Dylas_ ,” she said crossly, “what did I tell you about getting excited? I could hear you halfway down the street. And _Doug_ ,” she tutted, “how could you _let_ him?”

“Um,” said Doug.

“Uh,” said Dylas.

“Well, Marjorie-” Blaise started, only to find himself pinned by a grandmotherly glare.

“And you, Blaise!” she accused. “Encouraging them!”

As she marched forward, ready to descend, Micah took the opportunity to duck outside. Dylas looked at Doug and finally, they reached an understanding. While Marjorie was sufficiently distracted, they followed Micah’s lead and made a break for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I think I'm going to change my schedule to weekly updates. MCM Expo is coming up at the end of the month and I need to spend time getting my cosplays ready. Sorry guys, but I want to make sure each chapter is good and that means no rushing, if I can avoid it.


	17. Chapter 17

Dylas jumped down a set of uneven wooden stairs and came to a halt in front of a waterfall. He stood for a moment, panting, as Doug caught up and went to join him.

“This this is far enough?” Dylas asked with a grin.

“I hope so!” Doug groaned. “I swear I could hear her following us.”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Wh-what even  _ was _ that?” Doug gasped. “D-did she really t-tell us to take a  _ nap? _ ”

“She did!” Dylas laughed. “What are we,  _ five? _ ” He sat down, still laughing, and looked up at the afternoon sky. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was starting to feel tired again, but running had felt good, even if he wasn’t supposed to be doing it. The food had helped too.

“And that Sherman guy!” Doug continued. “I thought he’d stand there  _ forever _ .”

“Why does he  _ talk _ like that?” Dyas groaned. “I already had a headache!”

“A mystery,” said Doug, laughter finally dying down, leaving him grinning happily. “A Sharance mystery!”

Dylas lay back as Doug sat next to him. The trees cast dappled shadows in the hazy sunlight, and Dylas found his eyes drifting closed.

They’d left the spring of Sharance behind and the waterfall was cooler, maybe because of the water, maybe because of the season. The light breeze felt good as well; about the same temperature as the town, it wasn’t the icy chill of winter, but the air was full of rich autumnal smells and felt altogether different somehow. The change was welcome.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually sleeping!” Doug teased. “Aw, does horsey need a nap?” Dylas hit him lazily without opening his eyes, but couldn’t fight a smile.

“Shuddup,” he mumbled. He felt comfortable, at last. This wasn’t the aching tiredness from the diner. He still didn’t want to sleep, not really; or rather, he wanted to skip the sleeping part and start waking up at last. But his limbs were so heavy… his body was so warm…

Doug watched as Dylas gently passed out. He’d felt a stab of worry at first, surprised at how quickly it had happened. But Dylas had whacked him in the thigh and Doug knew he was alright, or would be, after he slept. He’d been winding tighter and tighter in the diner, no matter what Doug did to try and prevent it, to give him space. It was a relief to see all of Dylas’ tension bleed out in sleep

The shifting light played in Dylas’ hair where it lay spread out across the grass, a few vibrant flowers rising through the blue strands. Doug reached out lazily and smoothed it down a bit. Watched the grass sway. Let the rush of the waterfall wash over him.

So much had happened in the last few hours. Doug wasn’t sure how to feel, other than embarrassed. Once again, he’d put himself in the centre and missed the bigger picture! Of course Dylas wouldn’t leave his other friends, and even if he did, Sharance wasn’t far away. He could easily visit. Doug missed Selphia, that was all, and it hit him then that he’d been thinking more about home than his clan.

He ran a finger along the tuft on Dylas’ ear and chuckled when it flicked him off.

Dylas insisted he was fine, he  _ seemed _ fine, but was he really? Could he really be ok? And if he was, what did that make Doug?

“Dylas…” he whispered, then stopped and tensed as he waited to see if his friend would wake up. He didn’t though, of course not, the waterfall completely hid Doug’s voice. Relaxing bit by bit, Doug glanced around furtively. They were completely alone, on the outskirts of town, and Dylas was asleep, so…

“I’m so sorry,” said Doug. “You stupid mule. At least let me apologise.” He took a deep breath, twisted his free hand into the grass by his side, and let his thoughts spill out.

“I guess, for a long time, I was sure I’d be ok so long as you were ok. You seemed to know what you were doing, and I was… I was  _ scared _ alright? The crash freaked me out, and the way the airship stopped, I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before. I guess it was a spell but I don’t know. I don’t  _ know _ .

“After the crash… I can’t really remember. I felt like I had to get somewhere, somehow, like it was important. And like I’d messed something up. I don’t know why. Actually no, I do know why.

“The first time I met Syra and Riker they were… we were… it was on the Icegale Steppes. It wasn’t really a mission, I was too young, so I was training. I guess. They called it training. They said that if I ever wanted to fight a Divine Dragon, I had to be able to do all sorts of things. Fight monsters, fly airships, climb mountains and… and survive on my own, sometimes. They. Um. They said that they’d leave if I didn’t find my way back in three days. So I sort of freaked out. I guess… this time… That’s why I was so scared.

“But I wasn’t on my own, and when I realised you were with me it was like all our problems disappeared. I just believed ‘Dylas will sort it out, somehow’. I don’t know why. You’re not that great, except, well, you built that sled and you made the shelter, lit fires and stuff, so I guess you were pretty great.

“Then you got sick and I realised I’d invented a ton of that. I just didn’t want to believe it, and… I couldn’t stand the idea of it being  _ my _ fault, which it  _ was _ , you dumbass. So I pretended I didn’t know, and then you nearly  _ died! _ Y-you nearly died and… and I care about you! I care about you so damn much you old nag! M-maybe more than… I’d realised…”

Doug rubbed at his face and  _ refused _ to cry for the second time that day. He took a deep breath and looked around, took in the trees and the birds, the water, the flowers. Distracted himself and calmed down.

It felt good, talking, letting it out to the pond and to Dylas. Even if horse-face was asleep.

Doug heaved a sigh and lay down on his stomach, head resting on his arms, turned to look at Dylas. They’d  _ have _ to talk at some point, figure crap out, work out what the experience had meant for them, not just individually but  _ together _ . Maybe Dylas would stop digging his heels in after his nap. Maybe Doug would let it go for a while. For now, though, Doug felt content.

His eyes began drifting shut. 20 minutes, maybe half an hour, it wouldn't hurt.

Maybe he dreamed it, but he swore he felt Dylas move closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... the reason this chapter's late is because I don't really know how to feel about it. I'm not satisfied with the characterization. Thoughts?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here, the one we've all been waiting for....!

Late that night, Doug lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Sleeping in a futon felt weird. It wasn’t that he’d never done it before though. Heck it wasn’t even uncomfortable, he’d slept on camp beds and in sleeping bags and just a few nights ago, on frozen snowy ground. So maybe it wasn’t the futon itself that was the problem.

He turned over, tucked his arm under his head, pulled his knees in, straightened them and rolled onto his back again. Crossed and uncrossed his ankles. Folded his hands. Maybe it was just hard to sleep in a strange place. He wasn’t half dead from exhaustion anymore, not recovering from illness and injury, and the inn felt strange. Nice enough. Very comfortable. Just… distinctly not-Selphia.

Doug sighed and stretched his arms out above his head, eyes stinging with tiredness but refusing to close. At exactly the same time, he heard Dylas sigh and turn over in the other room.

Doug held his breath and listened. The walls weren’t especially thin but he got the impression that his and Dylas’ futons had been set up right next to each other on opposite sides of the wall. Dylas tossed and turned a few more times before muttering what was probably a swear word. Shuffling, then footsteps, then a door sliding open.

Doug bit his lip and fiddled absently with his hair. If neither of them could sleep… Then… But…

The monologue from earlier flashed through Doug’s mind and he felt his cheeks heat up. Even if no one had heard him he’d struggled to meet Dylas’ gaze all day. More had come out during his speech than he’d meant to and it was making him think about… stuff. He was lying there, wrestling with his feelings, when his thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door.

“Doug?” Dylas whispered. “Are you still awake?”

“Y-yeah,” Doug stammered, sitting up. The screen door slid open. Dylas was kneeling in the hall with a comforter draped over his shoulders.

“I can’t sleep,” he said quietly, face masked by shadows, “can we go outside?”

The air was cold, but the moon was bright. They stood on the inn’s bridge, watching the dark shapes of fish swim lazily in the water. Light danced in the slow ripples they made with their tails.

“I’m sorry,” said Dylas, after an eon of quiet.

“What for?” Doug asked, still looking at the water.

“…For not finding any of them,” Dylas whispered.

Doug swallowed around the stab of pain. “It’s ok,” he said. It wasn’t, but it wasn’t Dylas’ fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own and the Sechs’, and he’d accepted that. Doug laid his head on the railing, and moved closer to Dylas in an almost subconscious gesture. Silence fell once more.

“B-but, you’re not alone!” Dylas blurted suddenly. He turned to Doug and gripped his shoulder hard, forcing him to turn. “I won’t leave! I-I mean I still don’t know why you think I would, but, I’ll stay with you!” He stared earnestly into Doug’s eyes, a blush spreading across his cheeks and Doug… had no idea what to say. The silence stretched on and he could see Dylas getting more and more wound up.

“A-and it’s not like your other friends will leave!” Dylas continued, a desperate edge to his voice. “Keil, and Vishnal, and Lest… And Blossom! You know Blossom will always care about you! Did I make this weird? I made this weird.” Dylas turned away with a strangled moan, comforter dropping to the floor as his hands flew to tangle in his hair.

Doug’s tongue unstuck itself, but all he could manage was, “yeah you kind of did.”

Which probably didn’t help.

Dylas whipped around and glared at Doug from, between his fingers. “Sh-shut up!” he stammered. “It’s hard ok! J-just because Porcoline says it’s ok now doesn’t stop Leon from making all those stupid jokes!”

“Wait, what?” said Doug, all thoughts coming to a grinding, screeching halt.

Dylas looked similarly frozen, caught in the motion of tugging at his ears. “ _Uh_ ,” he said. “I meant, there’s n-nothing wrong with two guys saying those sorts of things to each other, is there?” Dylas was quickly going to flustered to outright panicked. The ear-tugging hadn’t stopped and if anything it looked _painful_. “F-for guys to say th-that they c-care about each other… it’s… _fine_ , right?”

Dylas looked _scared_. Like he might bolt at any second. Doug tried to think of something, anything, to say that would help, but couldn’t come up with anything more useful than _wow_ and _huh_.

“Dylas,” he began slowly. “Could you…? Um. Did you hear what I was saying earlier… by the waterfall?”

_Did you hear what I was saying?_

Had he heard what Doug was saying?

Yes. Dylas had.

He’d woken up a little when someone touched his ears. It had been strange. Touches like that didn’t usually bother him, it was normal for a strand of hair or the corner of a pillow to set his ears twitching in the night, and once he’d gotten over the strangeness of being part horse at all he’d stopped noticing those minor annoyances.

The dappled sunlight cast patterns on the inside of his eyelids and he watched, still mostly asleep. A familiar voice was talking quietly beside him, and Dylas chose to listen.

The words came and went as if they were floating on waves, being pulled and pushed with the will of the tide. He caught snatches of sentences like _crash_ and _sorry_ and _scared_ , things he didn’t want to hear, and found himself dreaming of a small pink-haired kid stumbling through ice and snow. A sudden plunge, like the ground had given way, like an airship was falling, and Dylas had found himself almost awake again.

_“Y-you nearly died and… and I care about you! I care about you so damn much you old nag! M-maybe more than… I’d realised…”_

Yes, he’d heard.

Dylas nodded.

He watched, grappling with panic, as emotions flashed across Doug’s face too quickly to read. A lot had changed while Dylas had been gone, too much, but not all of it was bad. Three weeks into his new life in Selphia, when Dylas had finally plucked up the courage to ask Porcoline how he could behave like that, how he could feel _safe_ while being so _open_ , he’d seen his new guardian look truly sad for the first time.

But that didn’t mean Doug would take it well and Dylas thought then, oh Gods, what if their fears were reversed and _Doug_ wanted to leave _him?_

“I think I need you,” Dylas whispered, though he could barely hear himself over his own pounding heartbeat. “Is that… what you mean, too?”

His mouth was dry, his throat was tight, he couldn’t speak.

“I’m not sure what I feel,” Doug said slowly, more to himself than to Dylas. His knuckles were white on the bridge’s handrail. “I’ve never felt this before… _ever_.”

It was frightening. A feeling so intense it was crushing his insides. Doug felt like he’d fall over if he didn’t cling onto the bridge, but he forced himself to move, because he knew that if he didn’t act right then and there, he would run. Or Dylas would run, and if there was one certain thing in the whirl of confusion, it was that he _needed_ Dylas to stay.

Doug inched his way forward and wrapped his arms around Dylas’ chest, held on as tight as he dared.

Dylas hugged him back, waves of soft hair falling in a curtain around them as he leaned into the embrace. His hands clenched into the back of Doug’s pajamas and he heaved a shuddering breath, relaxing second by second as the relief made him feel light enough to float.

“I need you,” he murmured, and he was amazed by how easy it was to say. “Yeah, I need you.” He pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to see Doug’s face. He leaned down, but it was Doug who closed the gap and pressed a soft kiss to Dylas’ lips. Both of them blushed, hard.

“And I like you too, I guess,” Dylas mumbled, burying his face in Doug’s shoulder.

“You’re not too bad yourself!” Doug laughed, still shaking, heart still pounding in his chest. He couldn't quite believe he was awake. "A-and, I like you too." It was cold, he was realising; he’d left his comforter indoors, so maybe it wasn’t just nerves that were making him shiver.

“Can we go inside?” They wouldn’t be able to sleep, not yet, not for a while, but they could sit together. Talk some more. And just… _be_.

Maybe cuddle a bit.

Dylas raised his head and kissed Doug’s cheek on the way up, face going even redder as he turned around to pick his comforter up. “Sure,” he said breathlessly. “Y-your room?”

The words made Doug’s stomach do a funny little lurch, even though they wouldn’t be doing anything more than _talking_. Just… the idea of being close… being close in any way. Doug loved it. Loved… loved Dylas.

They walked back holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -falls over- I found this so hard to write?? I don't know what it is about confession scenes but yikes, I sat on this for like 3 days! Now it's done, though, hopefully updates will be a lot more frequent


	19. Chapter 19

It was their last day in Sharance.

Sherman had written to Porcoline, who’d spoken (or maybe sung) to Arthur, who’d written back saying he’d fly the new airship over. Doug’s and Dylas’ remaining clothes had been washed and repaired, they had food, and Gaius had even presented Doug with a brand new sword.

"Hey, Doug, are you ready?" Dylas asked, coming into the room. Doug glanced over; Dylas was in new clothes that looked fairly similar to his usual Selphia ones, although Evelyn had made them look a little fancier. She'd done similar for Doug's - they were going to a festival after all.

"Almost," said Doug. A festival in the morning, and they'd leave in the afternoon. A way to kill time until Arthur arrived, really. Doug looked back at his stuff. He was lucky not to have lost more, he guessed; unlike Dylas it hadn’t occurred to him to drop his mostly-empty bag, he’d forgotten he’d still had it, even, so after a few quick stitches he was ready to pack. He tried to push his thick jacket further inside, bulky fabric refusing to yield, and heard something like paper crumpling.

...huh?

Doug pulled his jacket out again, ignored the sound Dylas made, and felt around in the pockets. He'd been wearing it the whole time, surely he couldn't have missed anything, and when he turned the pockets out they were empty. Shrugging. Doug went to stuff it into his bag again, but stopped when he heard the noise again.

Investigating the bag that time, Doug felt around until he discovered what he'd _thought_ was an inside seam, but as he pulled at the edge, found to be a separate compartment.

He pulled out a letter.

 

_My dear Grandson,_

_Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning! I can’t say that I approve, but what does this old lady’s approval mean anyway? When you get that determined glint in your eye, there’s nothing anyone can do to stop you! You wouldn’t be the Doug I know without that spark._

_What life gives us isn’t always fair. You've been through far too much for someone so young, but never forget it was your strength that brought you through. You’ve made some mistakes here and there, but that’s just part of the journey, and overall I think you’ve come out on top. Your bravery has been an inspiration to everyone in Selphia, from this little old lady to the mighty dragon herself. You have family here too, Doug, and we’ll miss you every moment you’re gone._

_I’m sure in in for quite the adventure, and don’t think for a moment that if I was a few years younger, I wouldn’t have gone with you! So I wish you well, dear. I hope that, whatever happens, you are successful in your quest, because seeing you happy is all I need in life._

_But please, whether you find them or not, please come home safely._

_Love Granny Blossom_

_P.S. And tell me if there’ll be any more mouths to feed! I’m fine with visitors, but notice is always appreciated!_

 

Doug blinked, and a tear hit the parchment. He wiped it away quickly and tucked the note back into its pocket.

“Doug? You alright?” Dylas asked, peering over Doug’s shoulder. Doug swallowed the lump in his throat and turned.

“Uh huh!” he said. “Let’s go, I can’t wait for the party!”

Dylas gave him a searching look, before nodding slowly and taking Doug’s hand.

Outside, at the plaza, the party was in full swing. The whole town had showed up to eat Blaise’s food, share stories, and play games. It was a little overwhelming, how much these people cared, and how they’d stopped being strangers after only a few days. Doug stuck to the buffet table at first - Blaise had made everyone’s favourites, so there was plenty of rice and fish, and Micah had provided his best produce.

Say, speaking of…

“Have you seen Micah?” Dylas asked the flower girl - Shara, Doug remembered.

“I haven’t yet,” said said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don’t know what’s taking him so long. He was so excited about the festival!”

“I hope he makes it back in time,” said Doug, scanning the crowd. He and Dylas both wanted to thank Micah again, once more before they left. They planned on visiting again sometime, but it wouldn’t feel right if they didn’t say goodbye.

“There’s plenty of time though,” Shara encouraged. “Relax, eat some more!”

Doug glanced at Dylas, who was standing kind of awkwardly with a glass of juice in hand, and turned back to the table. Cookies, cakes, sandwiches… ahah!

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked Dylas. “Here!” He held a carrot slice up to Dylas’ mouth.

Dylas’s cheek stained bright red. He glanced around quickly and took the carrot in one careful bite.

“That wasn’t romantic _at all_ ,” said Dylas, once he’d chewed and swallowed. Doug could only laugh.

“C’mon!” he said. “It’s your turn now. Feed me!”

“I can’t-! Not here-!” But Dylas reached towards the table anyway. He practically shoved the piece of sushi into Doug’s mouth, and Doug could hardly chew he was laughing so hard. But at least Dylas joined in.

The casual displays of affection were clearly so new to him, and yeah Doug was pushing it a bit, but it was so funny. And cute. Doug could say that now, so he did.

“Shut up,” Dylas mumbled, though he didn’t mean it. Sharance had barely reacted to the news, for all it appeared to be a small, traditional town. Not that he and Doug had actively gone around telling people, Dylas couldn’t even _imagine_ doing that, but they’d been holding hands, sharing food, and staying in the same room, so people figured it out. The more forward members of the community had offered their congratulations; others had merely smiled and winked. It made Dylas feel worlds better.

They’d just stuck up a conversation with Shara when new voices entered the crowd.

“Ears, you say?” said one voice, a woman’s. “But no horn?”

“I’m certainly very curious about these Guardians,” said another, a man’s. “The magic involved must have been extraordinary.”

“Don’t crowd him, you two,” said Micah. Doug looked up and Dylas’ ears pricked.

“But why did you tell _me_ to come?” a third voice complained. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

The crowd made way. Four figures appeared: Micah, leading three unfamiliar faces towards the buffet table. Two of the newcomers immediately caught Doug’s attention, they were _tall_ , silver haired, and each had a single horn; he’d never seen anyone like them before. He hardly glanced at the Dwarf who was dragging his feet by their side, but when he did, he froze.

Silver met silver as their eyes locked.

Doug staggered back into the table. Distantly he could hear people talking, heard Dylas asking panicked questions, but Doug couldn’t focus on anything except the person not five feet away.

“Z… _Zaid?_ ” he whispered.

It couldn't be. It  _couldn't_. Zaid looked exactly the way Doug remembered him, from the hair to the clothes to that stupid tattoo. He was a little taller maybe, and had a scar Doug didn't recognise, but was so undoubtedly  _him_  that Doug forgot how to breathe.

“ _Doug?_ ” Zaid mouthed. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, opened them and _stared_.

Doug had sworn he wouldn’t cry again, but that promise was totally forgotten as Zaid _slammed_ into him, sending the table skidding backwards and sending Doug into a plate of curry manju. He didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything, except hugging Zaid so tight he couldn’t breathe, and bawling his eyes out into his cousin’s shoulder.

“S-stop crying!” Zaid hiccuped. “It’s so uncool!”

“Y-you’re the one who’s crying!” Doug sobbed back.

They straightened up, parted slightly, then looked at each other and started hugging again. Doug couldn’t believe it, thought he must be dreaming, but Zaid was _real_ and _there_ and crushing his ribcage but honestly he couldn’t care less.

“I missed you!” Doug wailed. “I missed you so much! I thought- I thought-!”

“I thought you were dead!” Zaid howled. He pulled away and gripped Doug’s face, checking every detail, checking he was real. “I came back but the houses were burning and there were soldiers _everywhere_ -”

“Oh Gods, were you in the caves too? I should’ve looked harder, I _knew_ I should’ve-”

“You were in the caves?! I was in the forest, dummy!”

“I came out when the noises stopped and there were people and they said the dragon did it and-”

“-all I saw was smoke so I hid for _days_ but when I came back everyone was gone and I looked and looked but nobody came back so I-”

“-I was with the Sechs for years but I swear I looked every chance I-”

“-been camping out in the desert all this time and wait you were a Sechs?”

Doug hiccuped and wiped his eyes. Zaid, thanks Gods, didn’t look angry, but he looked desperately concerned and maybe even a little afraid. “Are you _alright?_ ” he asked.

Doug nodded, cracking a watery, genuine smile.

“I am now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was massively inspired by antivansdoitbetter's story, [To Be Found Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720812). If you want more Doug&Zaid, you should totally check it out.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, so much, to everyone who's read, left kudos, and commented, but especially to Terra101. You've made this silly fanfiction feel so special to me <3

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

Dylas had been just as startled as everyone else, but confusion had quickly become relief and joy as the long-lost relatives reunited. He’d been content to fade into the background for a while, give Doug a chance to reconnect with Zaid. Instead he’d found himself pulled into a crushing hug of his own.

Doug looked so, _so_ happy, ecstatic, _overjoyed_. Better than Dylas had _ever_ seen him, like the stress and fear of the past few days, no, _years_ had been swept away by the tide. Doug beamed up at Dylas and it took his breath away.

“This is Zaid,” he said, eyes red and puffy, shaking from the rush of emotion, and the most beautiful thing Dylas had ever seen. “Zaid, this is Dylas. He’s, uh, he's m-my boyfriend now.”

Zaid scrutinised Dylas closely, a look he’d seen big brothers give their younger sister’s boyfriends. It made him suddenly nervous, despite the upbeat atmosphere. Was there food on his face? Stains on his clothes? A leaf in his hair?

Zaid cracked a smile. “Guess you’re all grown up, huh?” he said fondly, though with a touch sadness. “Dylas, right? You’d _better_ look after my cousin.”

Dylas nodded. “Of course I will,” he promised.

“Good! ‘Cause man, believe me, the amount of crap he got himself into-”

“Hey!” Doug said defensively. “Too soon!”

“Oh I know,” said Dylas. “After we met, one of the first things he did was challenge me to an armwrestling contest.”

“First of all, that was Arthur’s idea,” Doug said quickly. “Second of all, you agreed first!”

“Hey, Doug,” said Zaid, “remember the time you thought it was a _brilliant_ idea to invite a whole pack of hobgoblins back to the village?”

“You did _what?_ ” asked Dylas.

“I was _six!_ ” Doug protested.

“That makes it worse!” said Zaid.

“He hasn’t done anything like that in Selphia,” Dylas mused, “though he does brag about fighting monsters.”

“Well who doesn’t do that?” said Zaid, oddly defensive. “Just last night I brought down a level ten Piney!”

“The family resemblance is certainly there,” one of the newcomers remarked, the woman. She smiled gently at Doug and Zaid as they boasted, tales steadily getting taller. Then she turned to Dylas. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Kuruna, proud elder of Univir Settlement,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, comrade.”

“Uh, D-Dylas,” said Dylas. “I’m Dylas. It’s a pleasure to meet you too?”

“Excellent!” said Kuruna. “I have many questions to ask you, firstly, how is it that you came by your monster features?”

“It’s… a bit of a long story,” Dylas said, reluctantly. Back in Selphia, everyone already knew, so they didn’t ask, and Dylas was quickly discovering that he prefered it that way.

“Kuruna…” the other one sighed.

“Yeah, lay off him for a minute!” said Zaid, before diving back into his competition with Doug.

“Dylas, these are Kuruna and Ondorus,” Micah said quickly, sliding smoothly into the conversation. “They’re, uh, pretty interested in magic and monsters.”

“Oh. Well, you might want to ask Leon then,” said Dylas, taking what he thought was an escape route. “He’s a Guardian as well, but he knows more than I do.”

Kuruna’s eyes lit up. “There are more? How many?”

“Uh, four in total,” said Dylas, wondering what he was getting himself into.

“Ondorus!” Kuruna turned to her companion. “This settles it. We must go to Selphia!”

“Huh?! N-now?” Dylas stammered.

“Well, if you’re offering!”

“I’d like to visit as well, if you don’t mind,” said Micah. “I’d love to talk to Lest!”

“Selphia?!” And elf girl Dylas hadn’t met before plunged into the gathering. “My sister lives there! It’s been far too long since I showed her my projects. Don’t leave without me, I’ll be right back!” She shot off across the plaza without another word.

“Your… sister…” Dylas said weakly. The only person he could think of was Margaret and she’d never mentioned a sister, had she? Dylas strained his memory but was drawing a blank.

“I, too, would **detest** another meeting with my **awful** relative!” sang Dylas’ least favourite Sharance resident. “When **aren’t** we leaving?”

It was getting too much. Dylas searched the crowd for Doug’s mop of pink hair, but the shrimp was too damn short to stand out, and it felt like he’d been surrounded with people in the short time they’d been apart. “Doug?” he called, quickly getting frustrated. “Are you ok with this?!”

“Huh?” Doug appeared by his elbow, dragging Zaid with him. “Sure, it’s great! We can have another party!” He looked so damn happy still, and Dylas’ stomach did a funny sort of twist as he realised he was killing the mood.

Doug looked at him, and his smile faded. He looked confused for a second before understanding dawned, and he dropped Zaid’s arm so he could give Dylas a hug. “I got sorta caught up in the moment,” he admitted. “Do you want wait somewhere else?”

The touch was comforting and Dylas found it easier to breathe. “Nah,” he said. “It’s just… It’s a lot.”

Doug nodded and pulled away, but slipped his hand into Dylas’. He was recovering fast, Dylas noted, a little envious. Especially now he’d found Zaid. It was hard to believe Doug had been sad a day in his life, let alone reduced to tears, but of course, Doug was nothing if not a survivor. Especially if Zaid’s stupid tales were to be believed.

It would take longer for Dylas to recover. He’d had nightmares about the cold, even sleeping warm and safe next to Doug, and was secretly dreading winter, resenting the snow for the memories it would bring. Maybe he’d be over it by Autumn, or maybe he’d never quite move on. It was a daunting prospect, but at least he wasn’t facing it alone.

He didn’t get much time to think. After that whirlwind of a morning, it felt like no time until everyone was clearing a space for the airship to land. It looked exactly the same as the last one, figurehead included, and Dylas couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight.

Arthur leaned over the side, and his face lit up as he scanned through the crowd. “Doug! Dylas!” he called. “Good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too!” Doug shouted back, almost bouncing with excitement as he waved. “Say, is it alright if we take a few more people back?”

In the end, seven people boarded the airship when Arthur sent the ladder down. Doug, Dylas, Micah, Kuruna, Ondorus, Sherman all clambered aboard, and Daria rushed back just in time with a huge bag slung across her shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said quietly to Doug, when he caught him looking anxiously between the wooden floor and the crowd. “After what happened, we made sure to get a sturdier airship. It can take a fall from several thousand feet - a few extra people is nothing.”

Micah steered Doug and Dylas away from the edge as the ship began to rise. Dylas looked pale, and even with Arthur’s reassurance Doug felt his chest clench with anxiety. They sat in the middle, Zaid and Micah beside them as comforting distractions, and tried not to notice as the airship gained speed. Around them, the other passengers were milling about and talking amongst themselves, remarking on the airship and the spectacular views. It was… normal. Reassuringly normal.

“Do you have Magic Seeds in Selphia?” Micah asked distractedly, feeling around inside his bag. “Where did I put my… Ah, good.”

“Magic seeds?” Arthur glanced briefly towards them before looking back at the skies, adjusting the steering wheel slightly. “I’ve heard of those. I was under the impression that Selphia doesn’t have quite the right soil composition to support them, however.”

“Really?” Micah asked, skeptical. “They’ve all worked fine for me, in fields, caves, deserts, you name it.”

“Perhaps the current state of our Runeys has something to do with it,” Arthur mused. “Although that hasn’t stopped Lest from successfully raising a variety of crops, not to mention Field Dungeons.”

“Field Dungeons?” Micah asked, and that was start of a lengthy conversation about farming that neither Doug nor Dylas was interested in. They just hoped Arthur didn't get too distracted.

“Do you remember,” Zaid said slyly, glancing at his cousin, “there was a tradition in our tribe? When a man proposed-”

“Whoa!” said Dylas.

“Hey!” said Doug. “It’s a bit early for _that!_ ”

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Zaid laughed. “It’s useful to know!”

“Not _now_ ,” Dylas grumbled. He glanced between Doug and Zaid. “So uh… What was the tradition?”

Before Zaid could sufficiently embarrass Doug further, Arthur spoke up, raising his voice above the chatter. “Excuse me, everyone,” he said, loud and clear. “We’re about to enter some cloud, so expect some mild turbulence.”

A split second later and the airship began to tremble, shivers running through the wood. Doug and Dylas founds each other's hands and held on, taking deep breaths, but… it wasn’t actually that bad. Just a bit of shaking. Far from the terrifying drop they’d felt before, and after a few moments it passed.

They kept holding hands, though.

“Hey, Doug,” Zaid said after a moment, “do you remember any of the songs?”

Doug frowned. He wasn’t really paying attention. “Songs?” He wasn’t sure what Zaid meant, sure he knew plenty of songs, but not the ones his cousin seemed to be talking about.

Zaid looked slightly crestfallen. “Oh,” he said. “Well, our clan had songs set to the beat of the hammer in the forge.”

“I… didn’t really have time to learn much forging,” Doug said quietly, following the lines in the wooden planks beneath him. Beside him, Dylas squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” Zaid muttered, bitterly. “I still learnt some of the songs, though.”

“Why don’t you sing one?” Micah suggested. “Doug might remember if he hears.”

Zaid cleared this throat and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, I’m not a great singer… and I only remember half the words, so-”

“Don’t build up to it like that then try to back out!” Dylas said hotly.

“Yeah!” said Doug. “C’mon, let’s hear you.”

Faced with building peer pressure, Zaid cleared his throat again and began tapping a steady beat against the floor, cheeks a little pink.

_“On the Silken Road I tread,_

_Thoughts a’swirling in my head,_

Something something… s-something…

_My thoughts will stray back to my home,_

_And the lover than I miss,_

_On the Isle of Fenith…”_

  
Zaid trailed off. “I told you,” he said defensively, “I don’t remember much.”

“We could barely hear you either,” Dylas commented.

“Maybe if you hear more, it’ll come back to you?” suggested Micah.

Doug was frowning, staring into the middle distance as he mouthed the lyrics to himself. “It does sound kind of familiar,” he said slowly.

“ _We’re here!_ ” Daria shouted, perched by the figurehead and beckoning excitedly for people to come see. Dylas got up, and cautiously approached, Doug walking beside him. From out of the clouds, Selphia emerged, red and green rooftops gleaming in the bright sunlight. The palace’s glass ceiling was dazzling, and the trees were bursting with spring flowers.

Doug grinned down at Selphia, at his home. It had been a desperate and terrifying whirlwind of an adventure, but he was happier than he’d been in his life.

Dylas was less certain. His felt his chest tighten with anxiety as he looked down at the people milling around, townsfolk and tourists alike.

Arthur steered the airship down and docked it smoothly. The thrum of the propellor slowed to a steady beat, then stopped altogether. There was a second of quiet, broken only by the light breeze and the chirp of nearby birds. Then, from the street, there came a shout.

 _“They’re home!”_ It was Vishnal, who came leaping up the stone steps to welcome his friends.

The procession into Selphia began. Daria ran off, shouting for her sister, and Sherman followed his nose towards the restaurant where he called exuberantly for Porcoline. Kuruna and Ondorus were slower, remarking on the fine architecture and neat stone roads. Micah got off next, looking around excitedly, but unsure, and waited for Doug, Dylas, and Zaid.

Dylas was hanging back. Zaid waited impatiently, one foot on the ship and one on the ground. Doug pulled Dylas’ hand and frowned.

“Hey,” he said, “if it’s the gap, just close your eyes, we’ll help you over.”

“It’s not that,” said Dylas. “It’s… it’s just…”

“ _Doug! Dylas!!_ ” With a flutter of iridescent wings, Amber swooped onto the airship, drawing her friends into a close hug. She was followed quickly by Dolce, who joined the hug for a split second before drawing back, looking flustered. At her knees, Pico teased her mercilessly before Dolce got a good kick in.

“Thank you,” she said, voice heavy with relief and ignoring the ghost as she complained. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” said Dylas. At last, he allowed Doug to pull him off the airship.

“Doug!” Vishnal took the opportunity to sweep his friend into a bone crushing hug of his own. “It’s so good to see you again! And you brought friends!”

“Yeah! This is Zaid,” Doug said, chest puffed up with pride. “He’s my cousin.”

“I’m Micah,” said Micah. “I’m a farmer, I wanted to meet Lest.”

“Wow!” Amber gasped, fluttering around Zaid, examining him from head to foot. “You really found one!”

“Lest? I don’t think I’ve seen him today,” said Vishnal, frowning to himself. “He’s been incredibly busy… I’m Vishnal, by the way. I’m an apprentice butler.”

“Yeah, well,” said Doug, turning to Dylas with a warm, fond smile. “I wouldn’t have made it far without Horsie, here.”

Dolce looked between them curiously, then her eyes drifted to their joined hands.

“O-oh yeah,” Dylas stuttered, “there are two people, um, Un… Uni…?”

“Univir,” Zaid supplied, leaning away from Amber as she peered into his eyes.

“Yeah, Univir, who came with us who’re looking for you,” said Dylas, quickly. “They want to ask questions about Guardian magic.”

“They should talk to Leon, then,” said Dolce. She looked up and glanced around. “Where is he? He was with us a moment ago.”

“Doug!” someone called. “Doug, over here!”

Doug turned, and there was Leon. Moving slowly down the street, supporting the elderly woman on his arm.

“ _Granny!_ ” Doug released Dylas’ hand and sprinted down the road, arms outspread, tears of joy gathering in his eyes.

“Doug!” Blossom cried. “Doug, oh, my boy, where have you _been?_ ”

Leon stepped back a respectable distance, watching from behind his fan and grandson and grandmother reunited. They held each other tight, Blossom laughing in surprise as Doug lifted her heels off the floor with the force of his hug. Then he let go. He stepped back. He sank to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” Doug whispered, clutching at the hem of Blossom’s dress. “I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry for scaring you…”

“Oh, Doug.” Blossom knelt as well, a little stiffly, and cupped Doug’s face in her soft, warm hands. “I know that this was something you needed to do. Didn’t you find my note? I’m happy so long as you’re happy.”

Doug sniffed and nodded, taking Blossom’s hands. He helped her up, then turned back towards the airship, where his companions were watching with blatant curiosity.

“Zaid!” Doug called. “Zaid, come over here!”

“Go on,” said Micah, giving Zaid a subtle shove forward. “Say hello!”

Zaid actually looked kind of nervous, but he approached at a brisk walk. “Um, hello!” he said, when he reached Doug’s side. “I’m Zaid. Doug is my cousin.”

Blossom clapped her hands over her mouth and practically _squealed_ in delight. “Doug!” she cried. “Oh, Doug, you _found_ someone! Oh I’m so happy for you!” She shed a few tears of her own as she vigorously shook Zaid’s hand, remarking on his eyes and the family resemblance, and how strong and healthy he looked. Zaid straightened his back and happily accepted the praise, shyness forgotten.

“Looks like you have quite the story to tell,” Leon remarked. “By the way, how did those charms hold up?”

“Charms?” Doug’s hand flew to his neck. The delicate twine lay against his skin, so light and soft that he’d forgotten all about it. Dylas had his, too, though Doug didn’t think he was wearing it. Out of everything they’d brought, the charms had held up the best and, Doug thought, done the _least_ to actually _help_.

“They’re fine,” Doug huffed. “Although you never said what they’re actually  _for_.”

Leon raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “I thought it was obvious,” he said. “They are made from the Divine Dragon’s feathers, after all.”

“Wha-?! Th-they are?”

“Yes.” Leon closed his fan with a snap, looking oddly pleased with himself. “They bring good fortune, and strengthen the spiritual bond between wearer and Dragon.”

“They do?” Come to think of it, hadn’t Dylas mentioned something about a dream, or something?

“Of course they also strengthen personal bonds,” Leon purred. “Particularly between wearers… Such things were used as love charms in my time, you know.”

“Th-” Doug’s mouth was dry. “They _were?_ ”

“Well they worked!” Zaid laughed. “Hey, Dy-!”

“Wait a minute!” Doug yelped, interrupted Zaid’s shout. “One thing at a time!” He glanced anxiously at Blossom. Dylas had been twisting himself up over his feelings for _days_ if not longer, he wouldn’t want their relationship to be shouted about from the rooftops, but Doug was also struck suddenly by concern for Blossom’s _heart_. Surprises, even the good kind, weren’t good for _her_ , and she’d already had two!

But Blossom looked more intrigued than anything else.

“Oh?” she asked teasingly. “Who might we be talking about now?”

“Uh, well, it’s a bit of a story,” said Doug, trying to stall a bit, at least until he could speak to Dylas in private. “I can tell you later.”

Zaid was giving him an odd look, gears turning in his mind. Then he turned on Blossom, hands clenched into fists and fire in his eyes. “Look here, lady!” he yelled, making her jump. “If you have a problem with _my cousin_ seeing another man, then-!”

“Zaid!” Doug shouted, absolutely horrified. “Shut _up_ you bastard!”

Zaid rounded on Doug, but before he could speak, he was cut off as Blossom burst into laughter.

“Zaid! Zaid, my boy, I’m not _that_ old, heavens no!” Zaid’s cheeks flushed pink as Blossom continued to chuckle, leaning on her stick as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“I was just,” Zaid muttered, “just _saying_ , you know, just in case…”

“Zaid,” Doug growled, through gritted teeth. “If you _ever_ speak to her like that again-”

“ _I said_ ,” Vishnal shouted down the street, “ _that Lest has come home!_ ”

Doug and Zaid turned, as one, to see Lest emerge from the path to the farm. He looked very tired and worn, even from a distance, but he was smiling as he greeted Dylas and Micah.

“Shall we?” Leon suggested. Doug nodded and offered Blossom his arm. Zaid seemed pleased for the distraction, hands shoved in his pockets and feet scuffing the ground as he walked. Doug tried to ignore the way Leon was smirking and instead concentrated on helping his Grandma the short distance back to the airship platform.

“How did it go?” Dylas asked softly, moving to stand on Doug’s other side, with an anxious glance at Blossom.

“You don’t need to worry about my reaction, dear,” said Blossom kindly, reaching out to pat Dylas’ hand.

“I- What- I didn’t-” Dylas stammered, going red.

“Congratulations!” Amber squealed, grabbing Doug’s hand and bouncing up and down. “You make such a good couple!”

“You’re together?” Lest asked. “That’s great!”

Dylas looked at Leon, who met his gaze steadily and put his fan away for good.

“What use would I be if I couldn’t accept change?” he said lightly. “And… I’m sorry. For some of the things I’ve said.” His expression softened, losing the teasing edge. “It was worse in your time than it was in mine.”

Dylas nodded, and managed a smile, anxiety easing away. This acceptance, not just from Leon but Blossom as well… it was more than he’d dared hope for.

“Told you it'd be fine!” Doug said casually, as if he hadn't been worrying either, though there was gentle concern in his eyes as he took Dylas’ hand again.

“I’m fine,” said Dylas. “More than fine.” He looked around at his friends, smiling softly without even realising. He looked at Doug, and it was like the rest of the world faded into the distance, becoming grey and unimportant as they leaned in closer.

“-beat Rune Prana 3,” Lest was saying. “I’m nearly there, so close-”

“ _There_ they are!” Kuruna panted, hurrying back down the street. “Can’t _believe_ we managed to-”

“ _Young love is so beautiful!_ ” Volkanon wailed.

“-can have another party!” Daria cheered. “I’ll take care of the rainbows, and Meg, you’ll play the music!”

“-another great mystery solved!” Illuminata crowed, punching the air.

“A party!” Porcoline cheered. “My, how wonderful!”

Doug and Dylas found themselves pressed close in the growing crowd, arms around each other, oblivious to the world. Their lips met, and for a moment all was still.

The world crashed back in a wave of whistles and cheers. Dylas pressed his face into Doug’s hair, hoping the pink would disguise his blush, and mumbled something about nosey bastards and not having a second of privacy in this damn town. Doug found himself laughing into Dylas’ broad chest, too happy to care.

Eventually the crowd began to disperse. Kuruna and Ondorus successfully cornered Leon, Micah went off with Lest to visit the fields and exchange farming know-how. Porcoline, Margaret, Daria and Sherman headed to the restaurant to plan what would be the greatest party Selphia had ever thrown, and even Zaid made his excuses, sliding away to explore with a quick wink at his cousin.

Doug and Dylas found themselves sitting together on the platform’s stone steps, taking a moment to catch their breath.

“It looks the same as when we left,” said Dylas, gazing around with something akin to wonder.

Doug laughed breathlessly. “We were gone, what, a week? _Gods_ , it feels longer.”

“We set off right here,” Dylas murmured. “I almost can’t believe we left at all.”

“I know what you mean,” said Doug, leaning back on the stairs and tucking an arm behind his head. “Like, if it wasn’t so vivid it could almost be some crazy dream.” He shuddered. Turned to Dylas. Sat up again and shifted closer, until they were sitting pressed together. “I still think about the cold,” he said.

“So do I,” Dylas admitted, putting an arm around Doug's shoulders and drawing him close. “Do you think… we’ll be ok?”

Doug thought for a moment, before nodding confidently. “Yes,” he said. “I mean, we’ve both been through some pretty hard stuff before.”

“You’re right,” said Dylas, a little surprised at the realisation. Making the decision to become a Guardian… that had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Reawakening afterwards to find the world completely changed hadn't been easy, either. Not as physically challenging as surviving a frozen wasteland, but emotionally…

And Doug had already endured the Sechs before, had already struggled through the ice and snow. Had already had his whole world changed, not just once, but twice.

Yeah. They'd be fine.

They looked at each other, and leaned in for another kiss. Made it slow and deep, like they’d barely had the chance to up until then. So much had changed, and so quickly… but change wasn’t always bad. Far from it.

“I love you… shrimp.”

“Stupid gelding… I love you too.”

 

-The End-

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! I tried to wrap it up as much as I could without dragging it on too far, though I am considering an epilogue of sorts. Quite a lot happened in real life as I was writing, nothing bad but a lot, and I didn't have quite as much time and energy to put into it as I'd hoped. I feel like I kind of drifted off course after Sharance came into the picture, but then romance was never my greatest strength and I feel I've learned a lot. At the moment, I'm content. We'll see if I go back and edit things later haha.
> 
> I'd like to take this opportunity to highly recommend Olafur Arnalds’ album ‘For Now I Am Winter’. I listened to it on repeat as I wrote the Icefields chapters, particularly ‘This Place Was A Shelter’, ‘Old Skin’, and ‘Reclaim’. Those three were particularly influential. I might go back and put recommended songs at the beginning of certain chapters, but that's something for later.
> 
> I had a great time writing this. Hope you enjoyed, and have a very merry Christmas!


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